


Glorious

by SherlockianMuse



Series: The Matt and Rigby Chronicles [2]
Category: Muse, Rock Music RPF
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fangirls, Musicians, Romantic Comedy, Sexual Humour
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-07
Updated: 2012-04-07
Packaged: 2017-11-03 05:03:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/377584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SherlockianMuse/pseuds/SherlockianMuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What Matt Bellamy wants, Matt Bellamy gets. So what happens when what he wants is you?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Matthew Bellamy was startled awake by the tinny sound of one of his own songs emanating from the mobile phone on the bedside table. Reaching out a fumbling hand to silence the unwelcome intrusion into his sleep, he muttered dire threats against Dom’s person under his breath. The sod had bought him the evil thing as a ‘present’, despite knowing how much he’d enjoyed binning his old one, and then messed with it so every time he called, ‘Glorious’ played (“’Cos that’s what I am,” Dom had declared when Matt had discovered this. “Fucking _glorious_!”). Finding the answer button with difficulty, he put the device to his ear and spat, “Go away, you total dingus. I. Was. _Sleeping_.”

“God’s sake, Bells, you crotchedy old bastard,” Dom’s disgustingly perky voice responded. “What’s got you so cranky?”

“You, obviously,” Matt mumbled, scrubbing at his face in a futile attempt to stimulate his brain.

“By rights you should be well-rested and ready to go. Didn’t you say you were going straight back to the hotel after the gig to sleep?” Dom asked, ignoring Matt’s less than friendly tone.

“I did say that, but it didn’t happen,” Matt replied without thinking. “Decided I wanted a drink, so I got the driver to drop me at a bar near the hotel, and I met this woman-”

“You are s _uch_ a man whore, Bellamy,” Dom admonished jokingly. “Can you go _anywhere_ without pulling? Don’t answer that. We both know you can’t. Anyway, take it this scuppered the plans for an early night. So… What was she like? Details, details, details!”

“I may be a man whore, but you’re a dirty perv. Always sniffing about for salacious details like a hormone-ridden fourteen year old,” Matt retorted. “And, since you ask, she was completely mental but also kind of incredible…” He trailed off, his bleary eyes finally taking in the unoccupied other side of the bed. “What the fuck?! Where’s she gone? She was here when I went to sleep,” Matt exclaimed as Eleanor’s absence sunk in.

“You let her stay?!” Dom barked in surprise. “That’s not your usual style, Bells.”

“Well, I actually had to convince her to. She was all for doing a runner,” Matt replied sheepishly.

“This gets odder and odder. You’d think I’d be used to that by now with you,” Dom pondered. “Anyway, you need to move your skinny arse. The car’s coming to take us to the airport in an hour. Get showered and crap and meet me downstairs for breakfast, where you will explain all,” he ordered.

“Jesus. Yes, Mum,” Matt said childishly. “Give me half an hour, then.”

“Okay. I’ll order your usual so it’s waiting when you get there. Later.” And Dom hung up abruptly.

“Git,” Matt breathed idly to the now silent phone. “I hate it when he does that.”

Tossing it aside, Matt eyed the depression in the pillow next to him. To tell the truth, he was sort of hurt that she hadn’t bothered to say goodbye. And him _not_ having to kick a shag out was, frankly, unprecedented. Scanning the room keenly, he was relieved to find everything where he’d left it. “Well, at least she didn’t add insult to injury by nicking anything,” he said out loud as he hauled himself out of bed. Matt stretched luxuriantly, getting sadistic enjoyment from the sound of his spine popping, and headed towards the bathroom.

Flicking the switch just inside the door, Matt winced as the harsh, artificial light battered at his eyes. Squinting, he shuffled to the extravagant, multi-headed shower and turned the dial to scalding before walking to the basin.

Raising his head, his eyes popped open fully as he spotted a piece of hotel notepaper stuck to the mirror. Intrigued, he detached it and perched himself on the edge of the bath to read.

_Bellamy,_

_Sorry to shag and run, but I had a flight to catch and wanted to avoid any ‘morning after’ unpleasantries, so left you to rest. You look disarmingly innocent when you’re asleep, by the way. Hard to believe that face is capable of the things you do when you’re awake…_

_I’m pleased to inform you I won’t be topping myself in the near future. And that means you **don’t** suck at sex, so congratulations! But, more importantly (or less, depending on your point of view), it **also** means your income won’t be drastically curtailed, which I can assure you it would be if I dropped dead. Seriously, Id’ve single-handedly funded one of your Mansons by now. Your bank manager would notice if I wasn’t around any more, even if **you** wouldn’t._

_Shit man, are you absolutely sure you don’t want me to tell anyone about this? You’d come out **really** well. Hmmm… Maybe I **will** stop on the way to the airport and get that ‘I shagged Matt Bellamy’ t-shirt made after all._

_Honestly, you’re actually hotter in person than you are on stage, which is quite astonishing, and you made all my little fangirl dreams come true, so cheers! In fact, I’m still in shock. So much so that I’m repeatedly checking the bruises on my arse (thanks for that, by the way. It’s nice to have a souvenir) to make sure this is real. You’re right there, obviously, but I’ve had daydreams like this before…_

_I solemnly swear not to stalk you,_

_Rigby_

_PS Tell Dom and Chris they’re awesome for me._

Matt snorted out a half-disbelieving laugh and read it again to be sure of her tone. He wasn’t entirely certain she was kidding about that t-shirt…

Smiling to himself, he carefully folded the note and wandered out to put it in the lid of his suitcase, before changing his mind and slipping it into his wallet instead.

Puzzled at his own actions, Matt shrugged it off and returned to the bathroom. Turning to step into the shower, he caught a red flash in the mirror out of the corner of his eye. He looked again. There was a perfectly preserved set of teeth marks on his left buttock, and he suddenly recalled the shock of Eleanor biting him, and the look of unholy glee on her face as she’d gazed up at his outraged response.

Brushing his fingers over the mark, flinching a bit as it stung, Matt grinned insanely at his reflection and giggled quietly. The more he thought about it, the funnier it became, so by the time he eased himself fully under the stingingly hot cascade of water he was cackling manically. Tears of mirth mingled with the shower’s spray as he leaned against the wall and tried to regain control of his laughter. Shaking his head in appreciation, he gasped out loud, “Seriously, that girl was a fucking nutbar.” Finally reaching for the shampoo, Matt sighed, “Respect.”

***

Showered and dressed, Matt met Dom waiting for him at a table in the restaurant downstairs, hoeing into his own breakfast as a plate of banana pancakes and a pot of tea with lemon sat ready at the place opposite.

Swinging into his chair, Matt grumpily took in Dom’s bright eyes, freshly shaven face and perfect hair. The well-coiffed sleep disturber always looked unfairly good in the mornings, even after a heavy night. “Where’s Chris?” Matt grunted in greeting.

Smiling affably, Dom responded, “He had breakfast in his room. Told me he was going for a wander and he’d meet us out the front when the car’s due. Hurry up and eat, Bells. Then spill.” And he returned his attention to his eggs.

Scowling, Matt poured a cup of tea and poked at his pancakes suspiciously. Deeming them acceptable after a trial bite, he consumed them with his customary haste. Knowing not to interrupt, Dom had finished his own breakfast and was sipping complacently at a cup of coffee when Matt looked up again, plate cleared and mood marginally improved. “Tah for that, man,” he waved at his stomach and turned it into a reach for his tea. Draining it, he replaced in on the table and casually asked, “So, what’d you get up to last night?”

“Oh no you don’t, you evasive wee tosser. We’re not here to discuss me,” Dom said sternly. Damn it. His diversionary tactics never worked on Dom. He knew all his tricks. “Now, who is this woman and why did you expect her to still be in your bed this morning?”

Matt rubbed the back of his neck in agitation. “What does it matter now? It’s not like I’ll ever see her again. She was… _interesting_ , is all. I had a pleasant time,” he finished with a slimy leer.

Rolling his eyes, Dom pointed an accusing finger in Matt’s face. “Exactly. And you’re usually thrilled to share the details, even when we really don’t want to know. Especially then. But you’re keeping this to yourself. _And_ you let her stay. Wanted her to. That’s just unnatural. If it’s really no big deal, you’ll tell.” Leaning back in his seat, Dom crossed his arms and looked at him expectantly.

Twitching his fingers against the tabletop nervously, Matt grudgingly gave in. “You are such a fucking nag, Howard. And stop pretending you don’t love it when I fill you in on my exploits, because we both know you do.” Dom’s lip twitched at this and Matt smirked. “Aha! Got you. Anyway, shut up and don’t interrupt and I’ll tell you all about it to prove you wrong. Deal?”

“Deal, Bells,” Dom nodded. “Spit it out. The car’ll be here in fifteen minutes. Unless you want to share with Chris and Tom too.”

“Pass,” Matt grimaced. “Okay. So I’m at this bar not far from here having a quiet drink, fully intending to head straight for the hotel afterwards. Alone. The place is quite busy and there’s only one stool free next to me, and this woman, mid twenties, takes it. So I’m feeling polite, and she’s right there, so I say, ‘Hiya’. No ulterior motives. And her face, which isn’t so much pretty as it is arresting, goes sort of blank, mouth half open, fantastic pouty lips too, and she’s staring at me in horrified amazement-”

“Hate to tell you this, Matt,” Dom interrupted, “but pretty much everyone looks at you like that.”

“Shut it, you,” Matt glared. “As I was saying, she’s gawking and then suddenly babbles something about God and gets up and runs away. Not far, just into a corner, and I’m like, ‘What the?!’, until I notice what she’s wearing. Muse t-shirt. And she’s fairly disheveled, so it’s obvious she’s just come from the gig. Fangirl alert. I swore I heard a muffled scream coming from her direction, but she suddenly straightens up and sort of saunters back towards me and then she-”

“She? Does this creature have a name? Or did you forget to ask again?” Dom asked seriously.

Gesturing wildly, Matt scoffed loudly. “Why does everyone insist on giving me shit? What have I done to deserve it? Nothing, I tell you. Rigby, I mean Eleanor - that was her name, you dick - was as bad as you. Started taking the piss almost immediately. Lost count of the number of times she insulted me. And she was a big fan, for Christ’s sake! What is _with_ that?!” He appealed to Dom, as if he was genuinely perplexed and wanted an explanation.

Shaking his head, Dom laughed, “There’s just something about you, Bells. You’re asking for it. What’s the deal with the two names, then?”

“Oh,” Matt blinked, filing away the ‘just something about you’ comment to bring up again later, “well, her name was Eleanor, but I called her Rigby. Like the song. Told me she was named after it.”

“You gave her a nick name?” Dom asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes. So what?” Matt snapped defensively. Sometimes he loathed how easily Dom could read him. “Thought you promised to keep quiet and let me talk,” he blustered. “You’re doing really well so far.” And Matt gave a condescending little round of applause.

Refusing to rise to the bait, Dom examined his nails with an air of supreme unconcern, waiting.

Giving an exasperated sigh, Matt dug in his pocket for his wallet. Extracting it, he removed the note he’d been left on the bathroom mirror and unfolded it. Glancing up, he saw Dom’s questioning look. “We’ve not much time, so just the basics, yeah?” At his acquiescing nod, Matt continued, “Her name was Eleanor and she made zero attempt to disguise the fact that she was a massive fan. Yes, she was mental, but in a good way. Clever, sparky, and very, _very_ funny.” He held the note out for to Dom to take. “Here, read this. I found it after I spoke to you earlier. I think it’s the easiest way of showing you what she was like and why I wasn’t averse to the idea of her staying the night.”

Taking the proffered piece of paper, Dom began to read. A grin settled on his face almost immediately, swiftly morphing into a low snigger. Looking up, he mouthed the words, “‘I shagged Matt Bellamy’ t-shirt” with wide eyes before he resumed reading. Coming to the end, he carefully refolded the note and returned it to Matt with a neutral expression.

Replacing it in his wallet, he waited impatiently for Dom to speak. When he failed to do so, Matt demanded, “Well? What d’you think?”

“Since when d’you care what I think?” Dom replied, but relented when Matt huffed indignantly. “Sorry, Bells. What I meant to ask was – how was the sex?”

“Typical Dom question,” Matt said with a grin. “Answer – fucking epic. Made me work for it, the stubborn witch, but it was _so_ worth it.”

“Then I think you should’ve tied her to the bed so she couldn’t leave, ‘cos she sounds like she fucking rocks.” Dom glanced at his watch. “We should move, man. Car’ll be outside by now.” He slid his chair back and stood.

Matt looked up vaguely at Dom’s looming figure. He’d zoned out at the image of Rigby tied to a bed that had popped into his head at Dom’s words. What a _splendid_ idea. “Sorry, Dommers. What was that?”

“Thinking about something _interesting_ there, Bells?” Dom asked with a knowing smile. “I said we have to go. So come on.”

“Oh. Okay,” Matt replied, jumping hastily to his feet. “But I’ve to get my stuff first.”

“Danny’s already collected it,” Dom assured. “And Tom’s checked us out. Or at least he claimed he would. Whether it actually happened remains to be seen. Just gotta drop your keycard in the box on the way out.” Grabbing the bag on the floor by his seat, he swung it on to his back and nodded towards the exit. “You ready?”

Slipping his wallet back in his pocket, Matt jerked his head in agreement and followed Dom out of the restaurant and across to the reception desk. Glancing back over his shoulder, Dom teasingly asked, “You going to tell me what you did to Eleanor’s arse to leave those bruises, Bells?”

Smirking wickedly, Matt waved a dismissive hand. “No, I am not. But I _will_ show you what she did to _my_ arse if you’re really lucky. Just not here.” He darted past Dom, dropped his key in the slot and made towards the hotel entrance with a cackle.

“That won’t be necessary,” Dom called after Matt, hurrying to catch him up.

“What won’t be necessary?” Chris asked as he joined Dom at the door, smiling in greeting.

“Oh, Matt here was offering to share the evidence of-”

“Of what a loser Dom is,” Matt butted in before he could finish. “I have extensive photographic proof.” He turned back to face them and patted Chris on the shoulder. “Morning, man. Good night?”

Laughing at Dom’s scowl, Chris replied, “Yeah, nice one. But something suggests _you_ had a better one. What aren’t you telling me?”

“Honestly? A great many things. But mainly ‘cos you really don’t want to know them.” Looking back towards the street, Matt spotted Tom waving from beside a waiting car. “The Kirk’s here, anyway. Let’s roll,” he told the others before shuffling off.

Settling himself in the back seat, Matt looked up after buckling his seatbelt to see Dom and Chris staring at him, with Tom gazing in confusion between the three of them. “What?” Matt demanded, self-consciously raising a hand to cover his mouth. “Have I got pancake in my teeth or something?”

Chris shook his head in answer. “No. But did you just call Tom ‘The Kirk’?!”

“Oh! Yeah. Someone told me that’s what the fans call him. Thought it was funny, is all,” Matt explained with a shrug.

Dom eyed him shrewdly. “Someone told you? Which ‘someone’ would this be, Bells?”

“Never mind that,” Tom interjected. “Do they really call me ‘The Kirk’?” He eagerly inquired of Matt, who nodded in confirmation. “That is _so_ cool. Makes me sound like even more of a stone-cold cyborg killing machine than KirkBot.”

“With impeccable manners and a camera instead of a gun, yes,” Matt giggled. He leaned towards Tom as if about to impart a great secret. “Did you know you have your own appreciation group on Facebook?”

Tom’s look of wonder-tinged surprise at this news had them all chuckling.

“Laugh it up, twats,” Tom said with dignity. “A little appreciation from you lot wouldn’t go amiss. Anyway, this is ace. Ooh, get me to a computer. I want to see, I want to see!”

As he fell into a debate with Chris as to how many members the group would have, Chris thinking ten, Tom arguing for at least three hundred as he was _so_ fantastic, Dom caught Matt’s eye and silently mouthed, “Rigby?”

He twitched in acknowledgment and Dom smirked. Huffing, Matt averted his eyes, feigning fascination with the cityscape sliding past the window. He really did _not_ understand what was going on with him today. Eleanor was just a shag. Quite a memorable one, what with the biting and the constant abuse, but it was still just sex. She’d slip back into anonymous fandom and he’d move on to the next conquest.

So why did he keep remembering things about her he’d only noticed in passing the night before? The solitary dimple in her left cheek when she smiled. The naughty glint in her eye as she teased him. Her soft, pillowy lips and the provocative words that escaped so easily from them. The graceful arch of her back as she capitulated to him and laid herself over that table. The look of agonised fulfillment on her face as she came…

Matt was assaulted by a devastating succession of vivid, snapshot images of their encounter that had him gripping his thigh with painful force to calm down. This _never_ happened. He rarely recalled the women he slept with while on tour in any great detail, individuals merging into a hazy blur of willing flesh soundtracked by lust-tainted moans. Swallowing, Matt rubbed his hands together in a soothing manner. This was not the case with Rigby. Everything remembered with crystal clarity that he doubted would fade any time soon. Her pleading whisper of, “Please” echoed tantalisingly in his ears and he groaned inaudibly. For fuck’s sake, Dom was right! He really _should_ have tied her up so she couldn’t leave.

Looking away from the window and back to the others, he noticed Dom watching him knowingly. Discreetly giving him the finger, Matt spoke up before he could stop himself, halting Tom and Chris’ barbed exchange. “D’you think we could play ‘The Groove’ tonight?”

A stunned silence and three sets of raised eyebrows were the initial response to this, then Chris tentatively addressed Matt, “’The Groove’, Bells? We haven’t played that in years.”

“Exactly. But we keep getting asked for it. You lot must’ve seen the banners. We should ‘give the people what they want’.” This bought a secretive smile to Matt’s face that had Tom and Chris exchanging perplexed looks. “Besides, it’s a killer song to play live and it’s only short. We could add it to the encore without taking anything out of the original setlist. Well?”

Dom lazed easily in the seat across from him, and his tone was infuriatingly casual as he inquired of Matt, “Any particular reason you’ve decided now is the time to ‘give the people what they want’, Bells?”

“No,” Matt answered shortly, irked at Dom’s superior air. “I feel like it, is all. We in agreement, then? I know it’s been a while, but we’ll run through it a few times in sound check and we’ll be rockin’.”

“Sure, mate,” Chris agreed. “Whatever you want. Actually, it’ll be fun to play it again. And the fan response should be suitably ecstatic.”

“Cheers, Chris,” Matt chirped. He shot Dom the laser stare. “Any objections from the cheap seats?”

“Far be it from me to deny such a reasonable request,” Dom drawled carelessly. “‘The Groove’ it is.” As Chris and Tom fell back to their friendly bickering, he quietly continued so only Matt could hear, “Eleanor asked for it, didn’t she?”

“So what if she did?” Matt hissed back. “She’s on the messageboard, so news’ll get back to her. Thought she’d appreciate the gesture. Now leave it alone, Howard.”


	2. Chapter 2

Matt remained broody and quiet for the rest of the trip and subsequent pissing about at the airport, and when they finally boarded the plane he made a point of sitting next to Chris. Dom shook his head in resignation and settled in next to Tom, who was still babbling incessantly about his Facebook triumph. “I wonder if anyone would notice if I joined?” Tom wondered aloud.

 

The journey passed quickly, Chris growing more enthusiastic about the prospect of playing ‘The Groove’ again the more he thought about it. His cheerful mood was infectious and Matt soon perked up, joining in the deliberately loud discussion Chris had started about just how many more Facebook groups they’d have in their honour compared to Tom’s paltry one.

 

Tom turned in his seat and graced them with a condescending smile. “I’m sure you douche bags do have many more than me. But I’m not even in the band. The fans noticed me anyway. Recognised my greatness and acknowledged it. Without me having to resort to cheap and easy theatrics. No guitar violation and sex faces,” he pointed at Matt, “no headbanging,” his accusatory finger moved to Chris, “and no exhibitionist trousers in all the colours of the rainbow,” he swung around and waved a hand in Dom’s face. “So stop trying to belittle my massive achievement.”

 

All three of his opponents temporarily silenced, Tom sat back in his seat and picked up the in-flight magazine with a casual air. Matt looked at Chris, they both turned to look at Dom, and then all three of them stared at Tom for a moment before howling with laughter. The other passengers in the first class cabin looked on in horror, while Tom desperately tried to pretend he wasn’t with them.

 

Clutching on to Chris’ arm and heaving for breath, Matt managed to choke out, “God, thanks for that, The Kirk. I really needed it,” before collapsing against Chris in a giggling heap.

 

After that it was no time at all before they’d landed, collected their luggage and been taken to the hotel, where Tom immediately frog marched them all to his room and made them watch as he broke out his laptop and found his Facebook group. Crowing in smug delight, he glossed over the fact he didn’t have the three hundred admirers he’d been anticipating, and Chris generously didn’t pursue it. Tom showed some restraint and didn’t join his own appreciation society, claiming he was loathe to 'cause a riot', but he _did_ e-mail all his mates and demand they join and leave comments about how wonderful he was.

 

Chris was pointing at Matt behind Tom’s back, whispering, “This is all _your_ fault, Bellamy,” when Dom glanced up from where he’d been watching the screen and said, “Hey, Bells, one of the members is called Eleanor. Fancy that, eh?”

 

Matt’s head shot around at this. Giving Dom a peeved glare, he moved to peer casually over Tom’s shoulder, feigning mild interest. Inside was a different matter. _What if it’s her? What difference does it make if it is?_

 

Tom looked up as Matt suddenly appeared close beside him. “Why would the name Eleanor mean anything to him?” He directed at Dom.

 

“Oh, Matt here met a fan called Eleanor last night. She was the one who told him about the group,” Dom answered with a smile. “Among other things.”

 

“Did you?” Tom asked Matt in surprise. “I thought you went straight back to the hotel last night?” He poked Matt in the ribs to get his attention. “Well? Is it the same girl?”

 

“Get out of the way till I find out, Kirky,” Matt responded shortly, kicking at Tom’s legs to try and get him to vacate the seat. He already knew it was though. The tiny profile picture beside the message showed the same wild chestnut hair, wide hazel eyes and strong features. Her lips were fixed in a knowing half-smile that made her single dimple show, and she was wearing the black and white tee she’d had on the night before.

 

Conceding his place with ill-grace, Tom hovered behind Matt as he sat down. “Whoever she is, I love her! Check the message she left,” he pointed excitedly. “‘The Kirk – even if he had nothing to do with Muse, you _so_ would.’”

 

The proud smile slid off his face as Dom piped up, “That’s all very well, Tom. But she also says, ‘Having said that, has anyone else noticed how very hairy he is?’”

 

“That’s beside the point,” Tom blustered, gesticulating in dismissal. “The point, my intellectually-challenged friend, is that she fancies me. Clearly a woman of refined taste.”

 

“Questionable taste, more like,” Dom murmured in Matt’s direction, pouting when he failed to get a reaction.

 

 _Foxton. Her last name is Foxton_ , Matt thought. _Eleanor December Foxton. Cool name_. He clicked on it and looked up at Tom when he failed to get what he wanted. “Why can’t I see her profile?” Matt demanded petulantly. “There’s no information here.”

 

“You can only see it if you’re her friend, and you can’t be one without joining Facebook and requesting it. Which she then has to confirm. Why d’you care anyway, Bells?” Tom asked in puzzlement. “This _is_ the bird you met, then?”

 

“Yes, yes,” Matt batted back. “And I don’t care, just wanted to be nosey, is all,” he finished nonchalantly, leaning back in the chair and stretching his arms over his head. “Might head to my room now. Come and fetch me for lunch, yeah?”

 

Tom grabbed Matt’s arm as he stood and made to pass him, smirking sneakily, and inquired, “Hey, Matt, when Dom says you ‘met’ this Eleanor last night, does he mean ‘met’ as in ‘got naked and sweaty with’?”

 

Matt smiled civilly, replied, “No comment,” shook off Tom’s hand and headed for the door.

 

“Since when do you not want to share?” Tom called after him incredulously. “Well, remember this, Bellamy. She may have shagged _you_ , but only because _I_ wasn’t there.”

 

Chris and Dom cackled at this, and Matt turned from where he was opening the door to sweep an encompassing finger at them all. “You can _all_ bite me. But I’ll see you at lunch.” He was pulling the door closed behind him when he heard Tom say, “Foxy Ms Foxton certainly lives up to her name. I wouldn’t’ve minded going there _at all_.” Pausing to poke his head back in the room, Matt hissed, “You wish, Kirky!” And slammed the door closed with a snort.

 

***

 

The others soon abandoned their pestering when Matt failed to divulge any more details at lunch; though it was clear they shared Dom’s skepticism when it came to why he wouldn’t talk about it. The subject was left alone, and Tom was soon rhapsodising about his adoring fanbase once again.

 

“For the love of all that is pure and innocent, would you _ever_ shut up about that,” Dom groaned with a roll of his eyes. “If they knew what you were really like, it’d be the ‘Tom Kirk is the Suckiest Person Who Ever Sucked Group’ and it’d have _way_ more members.”

 

Tom folded his arms and turned his head away in disgust, but didn’t deign to reply.

 

Laughing, Dom turned to Matt, who was unusually quiet, and asked, “Did you see the other groups that were linked on the side of Tom’s page, Bells?”

 

Matt shook his head no, and Dom continued, “One of them was called ‘Matt Bellamy is Bad Ass’!”

 

Rubbing the back of his neck, Matt smiled self-effacingly and let out a little giggle. “Really? That’s well cool.”

 

Chris was busy with his food and Tom was still ignoring them, so when Dom leaned forward conspiratorially and crooked a finger at Matt, he readily moved closer to listen. “Eleanor was a member of that group too. Had a shufty after you left. That girl has a _filthy_ mouth on her. You should’ve seen the comment she left about you.”

 

Raising one eyebrow, Matt replied, “You have _no_ idea, Howard. But thanks for telling me.” And he sat back with a small smile playing on his lips before reaching for his fork.

 

***

 

Matt sat at the edge of the stage at that night’s venue, a large, ugly arena devoid of personality, and fiddled with his Bomber Manson while the techs tweaked Dom’s drums. He was feeling out of sorts, unsettled by his thoughts and behaviour regarding Rigby today. _Why_ had the idea of contacting her through Facebook seemed so very appealing? _It was just a fuck, Bellamy,_ he told himself sternly. _Get over it and go find another one. It’s not like that’s a challenge. But maybe that’s exactly the problem…_

 

Glancing up vaguely at the feel of a hand on his shoulder, Matt found Chris smiling down at him. “You okay, Bells? Been frighteningly quiet today.”

 

“Oh. Yeah, yeah, I’m fine, man. Funny mood is all,” Matt responded with a languid shrug. “What about you? You good?”

 

Frowning slightly at his evasive tactics, Chris held out a hand for Matt to take. “Aye. Everything’s peachy with me. Come on, we’re ready. Let’s run through ‘The Groove’, shall we?

 

Taking the offered hand, Matt allowed Chris to pull him to his feet. “Yes. Let’s. Quite tickled at the prospect, actually,” he enthused as he grabbed his guitar and headed to his pedal board to adjust a few things.

 

“Bells,” Chris called across to him and Matt hopped up and skipped back to his side of the stage. “I _pwomise_ not to ask for any details, but tell me why you _really_ want to play this song.”

 

Grimacing, Matt grudgingly admitted, “Because someone asked for it, alright? Now stop pissing about and get to work.” Snorting at Chris’ indignant look, he ran back to his mic stand and got ready to perform.

 

***

 

It took a few tries, and Matt stealing someone’s computer to look up the lyrics on MuseWiki, but they eventually played ‘The Groove’ to everyone’s satisfaction. They ran through a couple of other favourites to ensure the sound was as good as it could be, and were soon done.

 

“What now, then?” Dom questioned, jumping down from the drum riser and wandering over to where Matt was surrendering his guitar to his tech. “Got a few hours to kill. Wanna go for a wander and then get dinner, or vege at the hotel?” He smirked cheekily. “Probably need all the rest you can get after last night, eh Bells?”

 

“Do fuck off, Howard,” Matt said equably. “I’m fine, thank you very much. Got my second wind. Let’s go be tourists.” His face lit up, a scheming gleam in his eye. “Even better, let’s go shopping! Haven’t bought anything new in ages.”

 

“Matt, you hate shopping,” Dom reminded him.

 

“That’s as may be, but _you_ love it, so why are you objecting? Always bitching about the state of my clothes anyway. I may even listen to your fashion advice this time. Probably not, but it _could_ happen,” Matt rambled. Not waiting for Dom to agree, he addressed Chris, “You up for a little retail therapy, Chrissy?”

 

“But you hate shopping,” Chris said in a bewildered tone, coming to join them.

 

“Yes, yes,” Matt agreed testily, “but that doesn’t mean I never do it. And I want to do it now. So, you coming? Captain Tight Pants here will be joining us,” he cocked his head at Dom.

 

“Sure. Why not?” Chris gave in easily. “Could do with getting something for the kids, actually.”

 

“Excellent,” Matt clapped his hands together happily. “Where’s The Kirk? I wanna get going.”

 

“Never fear, The Kirk is here,” Tom boomed, appearing behind Chris. “What’re we doing?”

 

“Shopping,” Matt informed him gleefully.

 

“But you hate-” Tom started before a quelling shake of the head from Dom stopped him. “Oh. In that case, I’m going back to the hotel for a kip. Can’t be dealing with Dommers dithering between two nearly identical shirts for twenty minutes.”

 

“Hey!” Dom objected with a wounded expression. “Just because I won’t put any old crap on my back like you. Keep this up and I’m going to start that Facebook group I mentioned earlier.”

 

“You’re pretty touchy for a man who owns a leopard print shirt,” Tom mocked, Matt and Chris stifling giggles. “Come on, then. Car’s out the back. We’ll drop me off and then you can get out of my hair for the afternoon. I don’t think you realise how much trouble you three give me. I’m knackered.”

 

***

 

After a few wrong turns they finally made it out of the rabbit warren that was the arena’s backstage, blinking in the bright sunshine after the gloominess inside. They piled into the waiting people mover, which drove off as soon as the door slid shut, and were paused at the gate as it opened to let them out when Dom spoke to the driver, “Can you swing by the front of the arena as we leave? I wanna see the queue.”

 

“Looking for an ego boost there, Dommykins?” Matt asked with friendly derision.

 

“Always,” Dom deadpanned. “But I actually want to judge what the crowd’s going to be like tonight. The size and insanity of the queue is always a helpful indicator.”

 

“That’s very scientific of you, Dom. I’m impressed,” Chris told him with attempted sincerity as the car turned a corner and the arena’s main entrance came into view. Well, it would have if there weren’t hundreds of people in front of it.

 

Matt let out a low whistle at the number of people waiting so long before the doors even opened, and thanked Christ for blacked out windows. He was surprised but very pleased, as this gig had taken longer to sell out than usual.

 

The driver knew his stuff, cruising past slowly, but not slowly enough to attract immediate suspicion, and all four men in the back had a good gawk at that night’s audience. Most of these faces would be visible to them at the barrier. It was the now expected motley cross-section of humanity, their fanbase wildly varied in age and appearance and including members of every social group imaginable, bar hip hop fans and all others fundamentally lacking in taste and discernment. Musers constantly confounded Matt. It seemed as if it wasn’t for a mutual of appreciation of their music, they’d have nothing in common with each other at all.

 

Giggling at the number of brightly coloured jeans on display, Matt was about to turn and point it out to Dom when a familiar form near the head of the line caught his eye. A lot less disheveled and with a lot more clothes on, it was Eleanor. Matt did a double-take and scrambled around in his seat to look out the rear window as they started to pull away.

 

As if she sensed she was being watched, Eleanor’s head shot up and she looked directly at Matt, even though she couldn’t see him. Her lips formed an uneasy half-smile and she shook her head slightly before turning back to the person beside her, obviously dismissing the notion. Matt observed her until the car turned on to the main road and she was lost from sight.

 

Straightening in his seat as they eased into traffic, Matt felt a bit dazed. Rigby had ditched him that morning to fly _here_ for the next gig?! That was mental. Completely looney.

 

“What’s got that look on your face, Bells?” Dom asked astutely. “See something surprising?”

 

Briefly considering denying everything, Matt swiftly abandoned this as pointless and blurted, “That bird from last night, Rigby, was near the front of the queue.”

 

“What’s this then?” Tom grinned, scenting the chance to take the piss. “Worried you’re being stalked, Matty? Don’t worry. We’ll protect you from the scary girl, won’t we, Chris?”

 

Chris gave Matt a thoughtful look. “I’m not sure he wants to be protected from her, Kirky. Is this ‘Rigby’ the Eleanor who told you about the Facebook thing?” He directed at Matt, who gave a bird-like nod in agreement. “I see. Is _she_ the reason we’re playing ‘The Groove’ tonight?”

 

Matt gave a small smile and shrugged helplessly in response. Laughing, Chris turned to Tom. “He _definitely_ doesn’t want protecting, mate. In fact, if he’s taking song requests from her, I’d say _she’s_ the one in need of protection.” Chris sobered and looked at Matt seriously. “She must be a pretty hardcore fan, Bells. Sure that’s wise?”

 

Dom spoke up before Matt could answer, “Think it’ll be fine, Chris. From what Matt’s told me she doesn’t sound like a berserker. Actually, this girl sounds like a fucking riot.” His usual one thousand-watt grin had a naughty edge to it as he turned to Matt. “What you going to do, man? Have one of the security guys pull her out of the pit and take her backstage?”

 

“God no!” Matt exclaimed. “Get the feeling she’d probably fuck me up if she spent all that time waiting to get to the front for nothing.” He lazed back in his seat and stroked his chin contemplatively. “I’ll think of something.”

 

***

 

They’d ridded themselves of Tom at the hotel, who was “going for a granddad nap” (read: getting out his laptop and visiting ‘The Tom Kirk Appreciation Group’ again), and headed into the centre of the city, where they’d whiled away the afternoon deriding each other’s fashion sense as they moved from store to store. As per usual, Dom and Chris had been forced to intervene when Matt started showing signs of interest in yet _another_ stupid hat, but, in an unprecedented move, Dom had stopped _himself_ from buying a pair of violently purple jeans, claiming they were “just too garish”, shocking Matt into silence.

 

Ignoring Dom’s advice as expected, Matt had impulse bought several t-shirts, spent an inordinate amount of time selecting a _unique_ range of different socks, and finally made the considered purchase of a pair of tight black jeans, the red stitching and embroidery on the back pockets having captured his attention. Tom’s prediction having proved correct, he was now standing outside the changing rooms of a men’s boutique clothing shop, surrounded by bags, waiting for the indecision-wracked figure of Dom lurking inside. “For Christ’s sake, Dom,” Matt called peevishly, “just buy both the fucking things. It’s not like you can’t afford it.”

 

Dom stuck his head round the stall door to give Matt a condescending look. “But why would I want two shirts that look the same,” he stated logically. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

 

Groaning impatiently, Matt answered, “If they look the same, why does it sodding well matter which one you choose?”

 

Giving what Matt was currently wearing the once-over, Dom smiled superiorly. “You wouldn’t understand, Bells.”

 

Matt rolled his eyes and turned his back on Dom huffily. “Twat,” he muttered. Resigning himself to a long wait, and with no Chris to entertain him, as he’d gone to the toy store a few doors down, Matt sunk gracefully to the floor, crossed his legs, closed his eyes and started to scheme.

 

Rigby was clearly a proud bitch, unable to bring herself to even _tell_ him she was going to be there tonight. She appeared convinced her welcome was limited, and had no plans to accidentally outstay it. So she’d left before he could tell her to, though he’d had no intention of doing so. Which meant that, this time, he’d have to go to her… Wait a minute, when had he even decided that he definitely wanted to see her again? Ha! Who was he kidding? It was a foregone conclusion as soon as he clocked her in that queue. The _potential_ with a woman like her… Well, it’d be _idiotic_ not to explore it further. And Matt was many things, but he was no idiot.

 

Smirking kinkily to himself, startling a passing shopper he didn’t see because his eyes were still closed, Matt considered his best approach. If pulling Eleanor out of the pit before the concert would incite her wrath, maybe he could try it during the break before the encore? Or he could have someone take her a note in the queue… But she’d already be inside by the time they got back to the venue, and he’d prefer to surprise her. Matt didn’t want her knowing he knew she was there, as taking her off guard would be so much more satisfying. What did that leave him, then? Aha! He had it, and it was _classic_. At no time did it occur to Matt that Eleanor wouldn’t be keen on a second round. After all, he was _Matt Bellamy_ and, as such, just not accustomed to hearing the word 'no'. From _anyone_. Except Dom and Chris. And Tom too. The _fuckers_.

 

“What are you up to, Bellamy?” A familiar voice halted his reverie. “And why are you sitting on the floor when there’s a chair right there?”

 

Eyes springing open, Matt took in Chris’ tall form towering over him, a grin lighting his face. “Who? Me?” Matt idly responded. “Nothing at all. I am the very picture of virtue and patience. And you know I prefer the floor to a chair.”

 

“Yes,” Chris agreed, “but you _are_ in the middle of a shop.”

 

“What’s that got to do with anything?” Matt inquired, baffled, hopping lightly to his feet and shooting a tetchy glance at the changing room door. “Is that vain bastard Howard done yet?”

 

“Pride in one’s appearance does not equal unwarranted vanity,” Dom pronounced grandly as he flung the door open and stalked past with empty hands.

 

“Wait a minute!” Matt called after Dom as he walked to the exit. “Where’s your new shirt?”

 

“I decided I didn’t like either of them in the end,” Dom informed him over his shoulder. “Don’t forget the bags, Bells.” And he disappeared on to the street.

 

Turning back to a bemused Chris, Matt shook his head in disgust. “Dom is such a _girl._ Anyway, get anything for the kids?” He asked as he gathered the shopping bags and headed out of the store.

 

“Yeah! These bloody wicked spring-action lightsabers for the boys and a Princess Leia figure for Ava Jo. You know how they love Star Wars,” Chris told Matt, catching up with him outside and waving his purchases in his direction.

 

Matt’s eyes lit up. “Lightsabers, you say? I may have to test those out before you send them. Just to make sure they’re safe, you understand. What if they’re faulty and one of the kids gets hurt?”

 

“My, how generous of you,” Chris thanked with mock conviction. “If you want to have a lightsaber fight with Dom, just come out and say it, Bells.” He gave Matt an ‘I know something you don’t’ look and dived a hand into the shopping bag in his grasp. “But that’s okay, as I bought two extra,” he declared triumphantly as he produced a box plastered in the Star Wars logo.

 

“Ooh! Fucking well give me that,” Matt cackled, grabbing the box and starting to rip it open, dropping his own shopping in the process. He did his meerkat impersonation, scanning for Dom. “Where is that clothing-fixated, closet _Vogue_ -reading, time-wasting _tool_? He is _so_ going to get it!”


	3. Chapter 3

Dom had been less than impressed when he’d snuck up behind him in the middle of the crowded street and whacked him across the arse with his newly acquired lightsaber, but Matt was sure hearing the surprised squawk Dom had let out was totally worth a bit of retaliation in the near future. The trip to the restaurant where they were having dinner was spent in silence, Dom examining his lightsaber with a sinister smirk as Chris had a power nap and Matt eagerly riffled through the many shopping bags. Humming contentedly, Matt ripped tags off clothes and rolled socks into balls. Was it worth throwing them at Dom for sport? Catching sight of the look on his face again, he decided it probably wasn’t.

 

After a meal where both lightsabers were left ready to hand on the table, Dom pointedly talking to Chris only, they were back at the venue. Idling in the dressing room, Chris having already changed and gone to the side of the stage to watch the support act, Dom finally deigned to address Matt again, “I see your lightsaber’s red, Bellamy. That means you’re Darth Vader. How _appropriate_.”

 

“Well, you know how I _love_ red,” Matt replied easily. He looked at Dom’s lightsaber lying on the couch beside him and grinned. “And yours is blue, so you’re Luke Skywalker! You know, I’ve never really noticed it before, but you _do_ bear a passing resemblance to him. Think I’ll get you a Jedi outfit for your birthday. Then you can be JediDom instead of SpiderDom!”

 

“Yes, yes,” Dom dismissed, “but Luke ended up getting Darth Vader killed, Bells. Best not forget that.” He eased to his feet and stretched extravagantly. “Should get changed, I suppose.”

 

A crafty look crossed Matt’s face fleetingly, but his voice was casual as he spoke, “You should wear that top you got today, Dommers. Give it an outing.”

 

“Why?” Dom asked with deep suspicion, moving over to his rack of clothes in the corner. He picked up the shopping bag containing the item in question lying on the floor there and peered warily inside. “You impregnate it with itching powder or something?”

 

Matt gave him an offended look. “Would I do something that amateur? Can’t be healthy to be so suspicious, Dommykins. It’s a cool shirt, that’s all.” He leapt up and headed toward the door. Glancing slyly back, Matt hurriedly added, “Besides, Rigby told me the fangirls like it when you wear short sleeves,” and disappeared with a cackle.

 

***

 

Having changed himself, Matt joined Chris where he was loitering in the wings, watching the roaring crowd with fascination as the crew changed the stage over. Without turning his head, Chris directed at Matt, “D’you ever stop and go, ‘Holy fuck, all these people are here to see _us_ ’?”

 

“All the bloody time, mate,” Matt answered, resting his hand on Chris’ shoulder companionably. “I find it’s easiest to pretend this sort of thing is all perfectly normal, otherwise I’d finally lose it entirely and run mad through the streets.”

 

Chris shook his head disbelievingly and smiled, “You’re just so wise, Bells. Though I wasn’t aware you knew what the phrase ‘perfectly normal’ meant.” He looked Matt up and down and raised an eyebrow. “Nice outfit. _Tight_. Any particular reason?”

 

“Yes,” Matt stated honestly. “Come here till we see if we can spot her without being spotted ourselves.” And he dragged Chris forward until they were right on the edge of the stage, concealed behind a speaker stack. Matt peeked around its corner slowly and surveyed the faces at the barrier with a keen eye. No, no, no… There! “That’s her, Chrissy,” Matt pointed. “In front of my mic stand there. The one with the crazy hair and green t-shirt.”

 

Looking in the direction of Matt’s pointing finger for a few moments, Chris spotted Eleanor himself. “I like her smile,” he told Matt. “Looks like she’s up to something.”

 

“I know!” Matt agreed. “Great, isn’t it?”

 

“What’s great?” A voice piped up behind them. “And why are we lurking here where we’ll be spotted?”

 

“Of course we’ll be spotted with you here,” Chris laughingly admonished, gesturing Dom forward, “those pants can be seen from space without the aid of a telescope. But we’re actually spying on Eleanor. Matt’s found her at the barrier.”

 

“Deadly,” he enthused. “Where is she then, Bells?” Dom queried Matt, looking over his shoulder with interest.

 

“She’s-” Matt began.

 

“Never mind. I see her,” Dom butted in. “Recognise that hair from the photo on Facebook. I must say, the half of her visible looks _very_ nice.” His voice took on a dreamy pitch, “Don’t you love how, if the barrier’s the right height, girls' breasts get pushed up by it, making them even easier to ogle?”

 

“You _would_ notice something like that, you slobbering letch,” Matt giggled. He took an abrupt step back when he saw a face peering straight at him, bumping into Dom and Chris without apology. “I think someone saw me. Let’s vacate,” Matt advised as he moved back into the wings.

 

They joined him as he grabbed a bottle of water from the backstage catering table. Fiddling with the label, Matt grinned mischievously, “She’s in the perfect spot for when I implement my diabolical plan.”

 

“Plan? What plan?” Dom tutted. “You haven’t told us what it is yet.”

 

“And I’m not going to,” Matt informed him. “You can live in ignorance a while longer. Now, if you gentlemen will excuse me, I’ve got a date with my foot massager. Come get me when it’s time.”

 

***

 

Matt was standing side of stage twenty minutes later, all wired up and jiggling on his toes in anticipation. Dom stood beside him, clutching both drumsticks _and_ lightsaber, still pouting a bit at Matt’s failure to divulge, as it was so very out of character. Chris, as usual the epitome of laid back cool, waited with a patient smile, can of beer in hand.

 

Paul English scurried up to the group. “Two minutes, lads.”

 

Grabbing his arm before he could dash off, Matt pointed to a quiet spot away from the pre-gig bustle and asked, “Can I have a word, man?”

 

“Sure, Matt,” Paul replied. “Quick though, eh?”

 

“Don’t worry. It won’t take long,” Matt told him as he came to a stop and dug in his pocket, extracting a piece of paper with a struggle. He handed it to the stage manager. “Can you replace my setlist with this one before we go on? And I need you to make sure that when they’re being handed out at the end, this one goes to the girl in the green t-shirt with the wild reddy brown hair in front of my mic stand. Her and her _only_. Is that okay?”

 

Paul raised an eyebrow, but made no comment, well accustomed to his little oddities by now. “Not a problem,” he assured Matt, unfolding the sheet and turning to do as bid. “As soon as I’ve done this, you’re on.”

 

Following in his wake, Matt rejoined Dom and Chris. “What was _that_ about?” Dom demanded.

 

Opening his mouth to retort, Matt was saved by Tom, who bounded up to the three and slapped each of them on the back. Hard. “Good luck, boys!” He spotted the lightsaber in Dom’s hand and his smile widened. “Or should I say ‘may the Force be with you’?”

 

“You have learnt much, my young apprentice,” Dom intoned, going all Jedi for a moment before the sulky pout returned. “But do us a favour and ask English what Matt’s up to, will you, Kirky? He won’t tell me and it’s really pissing me off.”

 

“Do it and there _will_ be suffering, Mr. Kirk,” Matt threatened. At that point, the stage manager caught his eye and gave him the nod, the PA going silent for a few moments and the house lights dimming before the intro music began. “Too late now, anyway! Let’s do this,” Matt announced as he adjusted his ear monitors and waited for Dom, Chris and Morgan, who had just appeared, to take their places. The crowd screamed in thrilled recognition, the sound ratcheting in intensity as Matt pranced across the stage and took his first Manson of the evening from his guitar tech. Dom started the synth line on ‘Take a Bow’ as Matt wrapped elegant fingers around his microphone, and then Muse did what Muse did best - tore the fucking house down.

 

***

 

Two-thirds through the set and Matt was glistening with sweat, hair in disarray, new jeans covered in dust from the amount of time he’d been spending on his knees and _bloody hell_ if he wasn’t having the time of his life. The crowd was in raptures, going completely spare at Matt’s overtly-sexual antics, as he skipped, gyrated, _writhed_ like never before and the pounding, swirling, spellbinding music enslaved them all like auditory crack. The moshpit was a flailing mass of limbs and hair and gob smacked expressions of pure joy, those who’d originally had seats were no longer actually sitting in them and the whole place was singing right along with Matt, even if they weren’t entirely sure of all the words. It was nothing short of _magic_.

 

It was one of _those_ shows, where everything clicked, flowed, fell smoothly into place, their normally outstanding performance pushed to a whole new level. Other bands had wet dreams about being even half as incredible as Muse were just once, when Muse did it _every single time_. Out there on the stage, their spiritual home, they were unbeatable. Last night, they’d been superb, but tonight… Tonight, they were _invincible_. ( **Author’s note** : God, I’m really sorry about that moment of unbridled corniness, readers. No self-control; that’s always been my problem.)

 

Matt _knew_ he was laying on the cheesy rock moves thick and fast tonight, guitar violation taken to _obscene_ new extremes, but he couldn’t stop himself when he was ‘in the zone’. The thought of Eleanor out there watching had him at a point where he couldn’t remember what it felt like to be doing _anything_ but this. And why would he want to when it got this sort of reaction? He fell to the floor, arching back from splayed knees, Manson resting across his groin, and just _shredded_ it.

 

It had been torture, but he’d managed to avoid looking directly at Eleanor since the set began, so technically she should have no clue that Matt knew she was there. He’d snuck a few surreptitious sideways glances her way when he wasn’t facing forwards, but all he’d seen was a lot of madly flying hair, not her face. Suddenly wanting to be sure of her response, Matt jumped lithely to his feet and ran over to the drum riser. Hopping up, he leaned over the bass drum to yell in an otherwise occupied Dom’s ear, “Dommers, can you see Rigby?”

 

Rolling his eyes, but not missing a beat, Dom bellowed back, “In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m a little busy here, Bells. But yes, I can. Why?!”

 

“Does she look like she’s having a good time?” Matt asked with an anxious jerk of the head back in Eleanor’s direction, his fingers never faltering as the song reached its climax.

 

“What?!” Dom roared incredulously. “Are you retarded?! _Of course_ she does. Looks like she’s discovered the secret of the universe. And the girl sure does know how to mosh. Now, bugger off, you raving looney!” But he softened the insult with a cheesy grin.

 

Cackling, Matt gave Dom a little wave goodbye and bounced down from the platform and back to his mic stand. He looked across at Chris, who was shaking his head with a resigned smile. Matt stuck his tongue out at him tauntingly and turned back to the audience, raising his arm with a dramatic flourish. They screamed some more. It seemed things were going well, then. How nice.

 

***

 

They left the stage before the encore buffeted by a wave of total adoration. Matt had barely made it into the wings when a foot-stomping chant of, “MUSE! MUSE! MUSE!” started up behind him. Beaming fit to split his face in two, he fell on the bottle of red wine standing open for him on the catering table, poured a generous glass and took a celebratory gulp. Grabbing a towel, he vigorously rubbed the perspiration from his face and hair, collapsing into a convenient chair with a groan.

 

Tilting his head back, he found Dom and Chris gulping water like they’d just eaten a particularly vicious curry and Tom, conspicuous in his lack of sweatiness, staring at him in bemusement. “What?” Matt questioned.

 

“Um…” Tom hesitated. “Nothing, as such. Just wondering if you wanted me to ask everyone to leave so you can be alone with your guitar, you pervert.”

 

“Oh, leave the poor boy alone, Kirky,” Dom laughed, sitting down himself and draping a towel around his neck. “Matty’s just putting on a show for Eleanor. I think it’s sweet. Though I’m still not sure what his plan is, as he hasn’t even looked straight at her yet.”

 

“All will be revealed shortly,” Matt said with a mysterious air before turning sharp eyes on Tom. “And you’re just jealous, Kirkleton. You _wish_ you could move like I can!”

 

“I am _not_ jealous,” Tom spat. “Why would I want to make a show of myself like you? Have thousands of women, and not a few men, screaming my name and wanting me to roger them senseless? Where’s the appeal in _that_?!”

 

Chris doubled over in hysterics at this. “That’s right, Tom,” he gasped, “you tell him! You’re far better off where you are. Matt’s job is an absolute nightmare. You’d be a fool to want it.”

 

Dom and Matt were both chuckling too now and Tom gave all three of them a look of deepest betrayal. “You. All. _Suck_. Think I might ‘accidentally’ post your mobile phone numbers on the messageboard. _Then_ we’ll see who’s laughing,” he glowered, flouncing away to consult with Dom’s drum tech.

 

“Think you two hit a nerve,” Dom told Matt and Chris with a snigger, shooting the former a loaded glance. “So, Bells… You haven’t got much time left. Going to get round to acknowledging Rigby’s presence before the gig actually ends and she _leaves_?”

 

“Don’t be so impatient, Howard,” Matt replied. “Not long now.” He put his glass down and ran his hands through his hair in a futile attempt to tidy it. “Besides, it’s time,” he informed the others as the stage manager once again captured his attention and indicated the stage. Matt stood and dusted down his jeans. “Hope you two haven’t forgotten how to play ‘The Groove’ since this afternoon!”

 

***

 

Muse arrived back on stage to a roar of thunderous approval. Matt took his Bomber Manson from his tech and stepped up to the microphone with a goofy grin. The noise died down slightly as he began to speak. “Thanks for having us. You’ve been fucking brilliant. This next song… Well, some right cheeky bitch told me you might enjoy it. Be sure to thank her if you do. This is for Rigby.” And he finally, _finally_ allowed himself to look directly at Eleanor. Their gazes locked instantly, Matt raising one eyebrow and winking saucily. He just had time to register an expression equivalent to having just been whacked across the head with a cricket bat settle on Rigby’s face before he broke eye contact, stretched his fingers across the frets and let rip.

 

There was a moment of dumbfounded hush as the pulsing guitar opening of ‘The Groove’ lashed out across the vast arena, then… _hysteria_. The hardcore Musers dominating the front of the crowd went bonkers, turning to each other to trade looks of overwhelmed disbelief before hollering with unfettered delight (“It’s ‘The Groove’! I don’t fucking _believe_ it! _Finally_!”). Those less in the know caught on to the charged atmosphere and swiftly surmised they were bearing witness to something special, resulting in a wave of movement that began at the barrier and rippled back until everyone was caught in a mass fit of moshing, yelling their heads off and just having it.

 

 _Well, what d’you know?_ Matt thought. _Bugger me if Rigby wasn’t right_. He looked to Dom and Chris, both with pleased smiles lighting their faces, and they shared one of their ‘ain’t this the fucking _greatest_ way to make a living in the wide world?!’ moments. Smirking in satisfaction, Matt spun around in a circle a few times, caught in his happy place, and landed back at the microphone to begin the vocals.

 

As Matt started to sing, he peered down to find Eleanor standing dead still, the only calm point in a sea of action she seemed oblivious to, despite being jostled by it from three sides. She looked _dazzled_ , eyes wide and mouth half-open, gazing up at him in befuddled awe. Registering Matt’s eyes on her once more, Rigby shook herself and came back to life. Straightening, she grinned gleefully, mouthed the word, “Cheers” at him and started jumping up and down and flinging her hair about like it was on fire. He choked down a snort of mirth with difficulty and kept singing.

 

Not looking away from Eleanor’s contorting figure once, finding how into the music she was _unbelievably_ hot, Matt barely noticed the rest of the audience as he instinctively swung his hips, grinding against his Manson for a little relief. He was so ridiculously worked up he’d be resorting to amp shagging soon. Catching Rigby’s eye, he made sure he had her full attention as he sang, “ _Someone tell me why she breaks my fall, then breaks my heart_ ” with a rasp of frustrated passion.

 

Eleanor shuddered deliciously, eyes falling shut briefly before snapping open and fixing Matt in a strangely intimate stare. Tilting her head back even further so her neck was exposed, she lifted one hand from the barrier and stroked her fingers teasingly down the long line of her throat and under the neckline of her t-shirt. Licking her lips lasciviously, she then sent Matt a smile so wickedly _filthy_ he was more grateful than ever for the handy positioning of his guitar. Swallowing heavily as his heart rate increased, Matt closed his eyes to the delectable sight in front of him. He was _this_ close to giving 10,000 people an eyeful. Sodding video screens. Couldn’t get a hard on without _everyone_ noticing. Well, not in these pants, at least.

 

Eyes gliding open to find Rigby once more as they reached the instrumental section of the song, Matt pinned her with a stern glare. “Cocktease,” he mouthed, earning a predatory grin and an unrepentant shrug in return. Giggling, Matt gave her an approving nod and leapt away. Best not look at Eleanor again. Little minx seemed to have a direct line to his dick.

 

***

 

Rockin’ the last note of ‘Knights’, Matt pulled his guitar strap off and dropped the instrument carelessly to the floor before it had even gone quiet. He raised his hands in acknowledgment of the crowd’s screams and applause, smiling hugely, and grabbed the microphone once more, “Thanks very much. You’re beautiful!” Releasing it and taking a step back, Matt gave Eleanor a parting look, making eye contact once more and pointing one long finger down at her. “Stay,” he commanded out loud, the word picked up and amplified for everyone to hear. Not waiting to see what the audience made of this bizarre display, or Rigby either, he gave a little bow and a final wave before fleeing the stage, leaving Dom to make his accustomed farewells.

 

Grinning bashfully at the praise being heaped upon him by the crew as he made his way back into the wings, Matt returned to the place he’d sat during the encore and flopped down into the same chair with a prolonged sigh. By Christ, he hoped this plan worked. The setlist he’d given to Paul with instructions to pass it on to Eleanor had the following note scrawled across the back-

 

_Rigby, my lusty wench,_

_Did you **really** think you could get away from me that easily? I’m not done with you yet, woman._

_Bloody well stay where you are until the place has cleared a bit, alright? Once it has, go to the left hand side of the stage and wait. I’ll come get you. Then you can make that bite on the arse up to me. However I want you to._

_I solemnly swear to do **terrible** things to you,_

_Matt_

_PS Where’s your ‘I shagged Matt Bellamy’ t-shirt? I’m slightly disappointed._

If anyone else got their hands on that, he’d have a lot of explaining to do. Matt could just see some berserker doing a handwriting analysis against a copy of his autograph to prove its authenticity and then starting a bidding war on eBay for a ‘Sexually Suggestive Letter Written on Setlist by Muse’s Matt Bellamy’. Ugh! Nightmare much?

 

Chris and Dom arrived to find Matt slumped so low in his chair he was in danger of falling off, so preoccupied was he with thoughts of how badly this could go wrong, the adrenaline pumping through his system magnifying worries previously dismissed. What if English confused Eleanor with another female fan and gave it to her? What if it got dropped and randomly picked up? What if-

 

“You okay, Bells?” Chris said loudly, jerking Matt out of his internal freak out. He rubbed his face hard and took a few deep breaths, calming himself before he responded, “Sorry, Chrissy, what?”

 

“I asked if you were okay. Looked a little terrified there for a moment,” Chris told him with a worried frown, Dom nodding in agreement beside him.

 

“Oh, I’m fine really,” Matt reassured. “Just let my mind run away with itself for a moment there. You know how I get.” He stood up and stretched, moving forward to pull both of them into a quick group hug. “Fucking epic show tonight, mates. Well done,” he congratulated, voice muffled.

 

“You too, Matt,” Dom told him, his usual lazy drawl tempered with honest affection as he ruffled Matt’s hair. Stepping back, he went on, “There’s no way the audience will be forgetting _this_ anytime soon. The reaction to ‘The Groove’ was fucking barmy! Bet there's already a bootleg of it uploaded somewhere. And that ‘stay’ bit at the end. They’ll be puzzling that one out for _weeks_ on the forums. Gonna explain it to _us_?”

 

Matt gave Dom an 'I'm so clever' smirk, flooded with confidence all of a sudden, his earlier fears forgotten. “That was for Eleanor, of course. Had to make sure she stayed to get the ‘special’ setlist I arranged for English to give her, didn’t I?”

 

Chris snorted as he figured out what Matt was up to. “What is it with you and making things needlessly complicated, Bellamy?” He let out a long-suffering breath and continued, “I suppose you’ll be wanting someone to tell you when the arena’s emptied, then. I’ll do it. But only because you’ve earned a favour for the show you put on tonight. Plus I want to meet this woman who’s managed to get you in such a state. She better be worth the trouble.” And Chris made his way back toward the stage as Matt patted his bite-marred arse and traded a knowing look with Dom.


	4. Chapter 4

“Over your little temper tantrum there, Thomas?” Matt inquired as Tom finally joined him and Dom as they waited for Chris to return from his mission. It’d been more than five minutes and Matt was beginning to get twitchy. He didn’t _do_ patience.

 

“I did not have a temper tantrum. And besides, you started it,” Tom pouted, sitting down beside Dom. “Waiting for that bird, are we? Sure you want me around, Bells? Might not be so keen on you if The Kirk’s available,” he said with a taunting smile, smoothing his hair.

 

“You’ve got about as much chance as a one legged man in an arse kicking contest, Kirky,” Matt informed him. “She wants me bad. And who can blame her? You _won’t_ be around, anyway,” he went on, spotting Chris headed their way and popping swiftly to his feet. “I want you all to clear out for now. I’ll introduce you later.” Dom and Tom remained seated. “Go on, piss off.” No movement. Matt used a word he loathed to utter when it came to this lot, “Please?”

 

They both grudgingly stood up and turned to make towards the dressing room. “Cheers, boys,” Matt called over his shoulder as he skipped toward Chris. “Safe for me to venture out, man?” He asked eagerly as they met.

 

“It’s not empty, but there’s no one at the barrier anymore. Except Eleanor,” Chris answered with a grin. “Looking a tad apprehensive and very rumpled, but there. Go forth and score, my son,” he urged with a laugh as he walked off. “I’ll leave you to it.”

 

“Love you, Christopher,” Matt burbled absentmindedly as he made for the stairs that led down to the arena floor.

 

***

 

“I see you got my note,” Matt said matter-of-factly as he walked up behind Eleanor, who was facing in the other direction, watching the many rows of seats in the distance empty.

 

Turning around abruptly, Rigby gave him a wary smile. She was even more disreputable looking then when he’d first met her, face flushed from the heat of the moshpit, hair sticking to her temples, clothes creased and clinging. Altogether _edible_ , in fact. “I certainly did,” she replied, waving the piece of paper clutched in one hand. “The only time I manage to get a setlist and all I had to do was sleep with the lead singer of the band to do it. If only I’d known this before.”

 

Matt grinned. It felt good to be on the receiving end of that sarky wit once more. He moved towards her until the only thing separating their two bodies was the metal barrier. “Oh, there’re all sorts of benefits that come with shagging me. Didn’t you get your complimentary gift bag?” Matt breathed as he wrapped his fingers around her upper arms and pulled her forward until their lips were millimetres apart.

 

“No,” Eleanor’s breath caught in her throat as their eyes locked, “I… I did not. And I’m bloody annoyed. I love free stuff. If I do you again, do I get two? ‘Cos otherwise I probably won’t bother,” she told Matt, raising one hand to rest hesitantly against his chest.

 

“Really?” Matt asked skeptically. “So… Unless I guarantee you some sort of reward, you won’t be keen on me doing this…” He trailed off as he kissed her lingeringly on the corner of her parted lips.

 

“That’s right,” Rigby half-gasped. “I’m not keen on that sort of thing at all. But maybe you should do it again, just to be sure.”

 

“Just to be sure, then,” Matt murmured before placing his mouth firmly over hers. He let out a little noise of pleasure as he felt her soft lips open under his once more and was just about to slip his tongue inside when he heard it. “Oh my God!” A high pitched voice fog-horned. “I think it’s Matt! And is he _snogging_ that girl?!” Followed by the sound of running feet.

 

“Shit, shit, shit,” Matt chanted, breaking away from Eleanor. “Quick, Rigby. Can you jump over this thing?”

 

Eleanor glanced over her shoulder in alarm at the group of about six girls sprinting their way from the back of the arena and nodded, “Not with any dignity.” She stuffed the setlist in her bag and began to haul herself up and over. Matt grabbed her around the waist and helped pull her the rest of the way, dragging her away as soon as her feet hit the ground again. They made it out of sight just as the excitable fans reached the barrier, darting up the stairs with cries of disappointment following in their wake.

 

“I’m sorry to leave them hanging like that,” Matt babbled at Eleanor as they made it back into the wings of the stage, “but I’d rather not have to explain myself to a bunch of fourteen year old girls. And God only knows what they’d do to you.”

 

“Agreed,” Eleanor panted. “They looked dangerously PMTish. I prefer my hair attached to my scalp, thanks.”

 

“I like it there too,” Matt laughed as he hailed a passing techie, still holding Eleanor’s hand. “There’re some girls at the barrier,” he told the man. “I kind of did a runner on them, so can you go and give them all guitar picks or something? Tell them I’m sorry, but I really had to go. And if they ask who _she_ is,” he indicated Rigby, “give them some crap about her being a cousin I haven’t seen in years. Oh, and I wasn’t snogging her, I was kissing her on the cheek in greeting.”

 

Giving a bemused nod, the techie went to do as asked. Matt was devoutly thankful that the crew were so used to him requesting outlandish things of them that they didn’t even question it any more. He turned back to Eleanor with a grin. “And I _wasn’t_ snogging you. I didn’t get the chance.”

 

“A technical point. How long does a kiss have to last before it becomes a snog? And does it have to involve tongues to qualify in the first place?” Eleanor pondered, stroking her chin and trying to look deep.

 

“Christ,” Matt chuckled. “I know it’s been less than a day, but I sodding well missed you, woman,” he surprised himself by telling her.

 

Rigby blinked in shock, a brighter blush rising to her cheeks at the unexpected affection. “Careful, Bellamy. I might get ideas above my station if you keep this up.”

 

Matt tugged on the hand he was clasping until Eleanor was standing close to him once more. “Still convinced I’m a heartless bastard, I see,” he said in a resigned tone. “Regardless, did _you_ miss _me_?”

 

“I may have noted your non-presence,” Rigby admitted, meeting his eyes briefly before her gaze slid away over his shoulder and a stealthy smirk passed her lips.

 

“And what does that look me-” Matt began before letting out an outraged yelp, dropping Eleanor’s hand and spinning around. Dom had just whacked him across the arse with his lightsaber.

 

“Must have known I’d get you back, Bells,” Dom told him with a straight face. “Seemed like the perfect opportunity. Gonna introduce me to your friend, then?”

 

“No,” Matt menaced, rubbing his arse and glaring at Dom. “Fuck off back to the moisture farm, Skywalker.”

 

“Now, now,” Dom wagged a chastising finger in Matt’s face. “Fair’s fair, Lord Vader. It’s the way of the Force.” He peeked around Matt. “Hello there, love. I’m Dom.”

 

“I know,” Eleanor giggled, stepping around Matt. She and Dom gave each other the once-over, much to Matt’s disgust. Rigby spoke first, “You’d better watch out, Bellamy. I’ve got a severe case of ‘Sweaty Drummer Love’ here.”

 

“I’m suffering from ‘Disheveled Fangirl Lust’ myself,” Dom replied with a flirty wink.

 

Matt let out an exasperated snort and rolled his eyes at Dom. “Down, boy. And you,” he scolded Eleanor, “don’t encourage him. He’s not that clever. He’ll think you mean it.”

 

“Who says I don’t?” Eleanor challenged. “Introduce us properly, then. Let’s pretend we’re mature adults.”

 

“Fine,” Matt huffed. “Dominic, this is Eleanor December Foxton, shit stirrer. Eleanor, this is Dominic James Howard, twatbag.”

 

“You’ll be telling me how you know my last name later,” Rigby directed at Matt with a raised eyebrow before stepping forward and extending a hand to Dom. “Mr. Howard. How utterly charming to make your acquaintance. My sincere apologies for my slovenly appearance.”

 

Taking it and pressing a chaste kiss to the back, Dom responded, “For my part, charming doesn’t even cover it, dear girl. And there is absolutely _no_ need to apologise for looking like _you_.”

 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Matt muttered, slapping Dom on the forearm and grabbing Eleanor around the waist to pull her into his side. “Did you two want me to leave?” He inquired politely, the grip he had on Eleanor indicating he wasn’t letting go without a fight.

 

“No need to be jealous, Bellamy,” Eleanor chuckled, kissing the furrow between his brows delicately. “At least not until I do this,” she continued as she detached herself from Matt with a small struggle and went to stand in front of Dom.

 

“Do what?” Matt demanded.

 

“Hug Dom,” Eleanor declared. “You don’t mind, do you?” She asked of Dom.

 

“I’d be thrilled,” Dom replied, setting down his lightsaber and opening his arms wide.

 

“Yah!” Rigby chirped, wrapping her arms around Dom and squeezing tightly.

 

They’d been hugging for a few, excessively long, seconds when Matt saw Dom’s hands moving a bit _too_ low on Eleanor’s back and snapped, “Alright, I think that’s enough!”

 

Letting go reluctantly, Eleanor turned back to him with a look of wide-eyed innocence. “What? I’ve admired Dom for years. Getting a hug from him is a big deal to me.”

 

“It’s not _you_ I’m worried about, Rigby,” Matt said, glowering at Dom’s smirking figure. “Howard here is known for having little control over his own hands.”

 

“Bollocks to you, Bellamy,” Dom cheerfully announced, looking to Eleanor once more. “I like your t-shirt. Is that one of ours?”

 

“Bootleg one off eBay,” Rigby confessed with a shamefaced smile, plucking at the green top featuring an abstract print of an astronaut. “Don’t have me arrested, okay?”

 

“I’d never call the fuzz on _you_ , darling,” Dom grinned. “Did it come like that?” He indicated the wide neckline.

 

“No, did it myself,” Eleanor explained. “Was a feckin’ huge men’s one, so I took it in, slashed the neckline, shortened the sleeves, added the trim, and here you are.”

 

“You sew?” Dom asked with interest. Matt barely contained his derisive snort.

 

“I’m a seamstress,” Rigby corrected. “Well, I make curtains for a living, but clothes as a side line.” Matt filed this tidbit away. He really knew _nothing_ about her.

 

“Ooh,” Dom looked eager, “d’you think you could have a look at these trousers I have? I really like them, but they just don’t sit right. Maybe you can-”

 

“And you wonder why people think you’re gay,” Matt butted in. “It’s ‘cos you say things like that!”

 

Dom stared him down. “Then what’s your excuse?! Besides, I don’t care if people think I’m gay. What bothers me is the idea that they think I’d fancy _you_ if I was! As if.”

 

Eleanor let out a bellow of dirty laughter at this. “Ooh, nice burn! He got you good, Bellamy,” she choked in mirth.

 

Matt tossed his head disdainfully. “Whatever. You can go away now, Dom. Haven’t you got an after show party to attend?”

 

“Yeah, but so do you,” Dom retorted. “And I wanna spend some more time with the wicked wee Rigby here. I love how she puts you in your place without even thinking. Lord knows you need it.”

 

“I’m not going to the after party and you’re _definitely_ not spending any time with her unsupervised, given your total lack of actual gayness,” Matt informed him.

 

“Excuse me,” Eleanor interjected. “I do not enjoy being told what I can and can’t do. At least not in public,” she shot Matt a suggestive wink.

 

Matt sent Dom a triumphant look and crooked a finger at Rigby. “Come with me and we’ll see what other things you only enjoy out of the public eye.”

 

“Sleaze,” Eleanor chortled. “And I’m not going anywhere until I’ve met Chris. I want the complete Muse package, as any self-respecting fangirl would.”

 

“I’ll go get him for you,” Dom gallantly offered. Matt could tell how pleased he was to get one up on him _again_.

 

He was turning to leave when Eleanor blurted, “Dom, can you do one other thing for me first?”

 

“Anything you want,” Dom replied firmly, quickly spinning back to face her.

 

“Canyoutellmetositthefuckdownplease?” Eleanor spat out in an embarrassed rush.

 

A confused look crossed Dom’s face, mirrored on Matt’s, before the former deciphered her request and gave Eleanor a great white grin of appreciation. Matt saw her visibly melt. Women were powerless in the thrall of its… _Domness_. “Oh, I most certainly can,” Dom said. “Right now?”

 

“Yes, please,” Rigby whispered shyly.

 

“What the-?” Matt asked with a perplexed frown.

 

“Ssshhh, Bells,” Dom over rode him. “I wanna do this right.” He straightened and fixed a sneer on his usually amiable face. “SIT THE FUCK DOWN!” He rasped loudly at an enchanted Eleanor, earning some startled glances from passing crew members.

 

Clapping her hands together in delight, Eleanor pounced on Dom and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Cheers for that, man. That was _awesome_.”

 

“I aim to please,” Dom responded smarmily. Catching sight of the expression on Matt’s face, he sobered and made to leave. “I’ll just get Chris, shall I?”

 

***

 

“Am I allowed to hug Chris?” Eleanor demanded of Matt after Dom had left.

 

“Of course,” Matt assured her, mastering his Dom rage. “Chris is entirely trustworthy, where Dom is about as trustworthy as a heroin addict in a field full of poppies. But you haven’t even hugged _me_ yet. I’m feeling a little left out,” he pouted.

 

“I’m still a bit lost as to _why_ you’d want to hug me, but if you insist…” Eleanor placed her arms around his neck and Matt snaked his around her waist and pulled her close, nuzzling his face in her hair. He loved how she somehow _smelt_ hot and bothered; warmth, perspiration and her perfume fusing together to produce the most bewitching fragrance. “Did you like ‘The Groove’, then?” He asked huskily, inhaling deeply of her scent.

 

“Like? _Like_?!” Eleanor stuttered, shuddering in his grasp as his breath caressed her throat. “I swear to God I had a spontaneous orgasm when you looked at me and sang that line. Thank you _so_ much, Bellamy. I almost died from wish fulfillment overload. And you saw how stoked everyone else was.” She bit him lightly on the neck. “Hmmm… And thank you for giving your guitar such an indecently good seeing to. I doubt I’m the only one feeling insanely horny right about now.”

 

“You’re certainly not,” Matt moaned, Rigby sucking on his earlobe as he ran his hands down her back to stroke her arse through her jeans. _Fuck_. He just wanted to get her naked and press all the fiery heat of her skin against his own, head to foot. His brain was buzzing with it.

 

Eleanor let out a tiny squeak as his fingers moulded themselves to the shape of her butt, attacking his neck in retaliation, licking and nibbling with obvious relish. Matt’s eyes dropped closed and his breath sped up as Eleanor whispered in his ear, “Oh, I almost forgot. Thanks for the tight pants. Even if you hadn’t’ve found me, I’d still have had an _outstanding_ night just from watching your peachy backside wriggle about in them for an hour and a half.”

 

Giggling softly, Matt raised a hand and tangled it in her messy hair, tugging on it until Eleanor looked into his face again. Her eyes were bright, hazel irises speckled with green and gold, enlarged pupils giving her gaze an otherworldly tinge. But always with that naughty little twinkle, as if she held all the cards and you’d only get to see them when _she_ felt like it. He found Ms Foxton intriguingly lovely. Not to mention flat out _foxy,_ the sexy curves and striking face combined with her provocative manner seemed purpose-designed to appeal to him. “Can’t have Dom showing me up, can I?” Matt murmured as he leaned in to take her mouth properly and claim it as his own once more.

 

“You do realise the crew are right there, don’t you, Bells?” An irritatingly familiar voice interrupted from behind Matt’s back. Eleanor started in surprise and jumped away from him, colouring and nervously flattening her crumpled t-shirt.

 

“Jesus,” Matt grumbled quietly, flaring his nostrils in displeasure and taking a few deep breaths to try and divert north the blood that had been so joyfully heading south just seconds ago, “I’m never going to get any at this rate.” He rotated on the spot to find Dom, Chris and Tom standing in a line, all with folded arms and mock glares of disapproval. “Pfft! Nothing they haven’t seen before. Pretty freakin’ tame in comparison, actually. And Eleanor didn’t say anything about wanting to meet Tom, Dominic, so why’d you bring him?”

 

“I didn’t,” Dom defended. “He invited himself.”

 

“But I _do_ want to,” Rigby enthused, coming forward and offering a hand to Tom. “As far as us fans are concerned, he’s the fourth member of Muse. Mr. Kirk, I’m well chuffed to finally meet you. I’m afraid I’m one of those mad folk who holler at you when you wander on stage. Hope you don’t mind. We just want to show you some love.”

 

“ _Mind_?!” Tom dismissed as he took Eleanor’s hand. “I fucking adore it.” He tipped his head towards her and gave his most dashing smile. “It’s nice to know _someone_ appreciates me. God knows this lot don’t.”

 

“Oh, stop acting so put upon and hard done by, you lying rat,” Chris laughed, taking Tom’s shoulder and pushing him out of the way. “Besides, it’s my turn,” he asserted, extending a friendly hand to Eleanor. “Hello, sweetheart. I’m Chris. I’ve heard _of_ you, but not _about_ you. Bells here’s been scant on detail.”

 

Matt watched as Eleanor’s eyes lit up, instantly taken by Chris’ warm manner. She took his hand and smiled widely, “It’s an honour, Mr. Wolstenholme. Mind if I grab a hug? I’d like the set.” Her voice dropped in volume and she looked shiftily at Dom and Matt, “And don’t let on to those two, but I actually like _you_ the most.”

 

Chris chuckled and grabbed Rigby up in a great bear hug, pulling her up on her toes. She slipped her arms around his neck and hugged him back, looking happily flustered when he released her. “Thanks,” she beamed.

 

“Don’t I get one?” Tom piped up in a hurt tone, opening his arms pleadingly.

 

“No, you don’t,” Matt hissed, taking Eleanor by the hand to stop her when she made signs of giving Tom what he wanted. She turned and gave him a betrayed pout, and his gaze was captured by her full, moist bottom lip, begging to be sucked on. “You don’t want to hug The Kirk, Rigby,” he told her vaguely, still preoccupied. “You don’t know where he’s been.”

 

“She doesn’t know where you’ve been, either,” Tom said reasonably.

 

“Yes she does,” Matt replied. “She was there. Now, if you lot would bugger off, we’d like to get back to the hotel now.”

 

“Oi!” Eleanor objected, stamping her foot and dropping his hand. “Stop making decisions for me, Bellamy. I’m not done here yet.”

 

Eyes narrowing as the others all guffawed at his expense, Matt reigned in his impatience with effort and calmly inquired, “You’re not? What is it you still want to do?”

 

“Well, first of all I’d like to say, ‘Fuck me that show was so fucking immense. Thank you so fucking much for making me and thousands of others so fucking happy.’ But that goes without saying,” Eleanor steamrolled. “What I’d _really_ value is a moment for me to digest the fact that I’m standing here surrounded by _Muse_ , who I have listened to, followed about, squandered all my money on and generally spent _way_ too much time thinking about… for _years._ I don’t mean to freak any of you out or anything, but it’s sort of like my mum having afternoon tea with the Beatles. In 1967.”

 

“Ah,” Matt said quietly, “I see.”

 

“Crap, I’m coming over all berserkerish now, aren’t I?” Eleanor sighed, fanning her hands in front of her face. “But this is, like, a major life event to me, in all my frightening fangirl glory. It’s not everyday you meet the men who provide the soundtrack to your life, is it?” She shrugged hopelessly, “Sorry.”

 

“It’s alright, love,” Chris said kindly, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder and shooting a pointed look at Matt, who was at a bit of a loss. “You’re actually making more sense than a lot of fans we meet. And we _don’t_ think you’re a berserker. Do we, Dom?”

 

“No. Definitely not,” Dom agreed. “The admiration of someone like you is incredibly flattering. You’re obviously a very intelligent person, despite your questionable taste in men and, if you love our music so much, well, we must be doing _something_ right. Thank you for telling us that about the gig as well. We were fairly ecstatic with how it went, but it’s cool to have it confirmed from the other side. And don’t apologise. Right, Bells?” He asked significantly.

 

“Right,” Matt responded, annoyed at not being the one to reassure Eleanor in the first place. If he put himself in her position, he could see why she’d be feeling a tad vulnerable at the moment. He sent her a goofy grin and her lip twitched ever so slightly. “Your brand of fandom is _definitely_ appreciated,” he leered, and Rigby smiled. “That’s better,” Matt encouraged. “Now is there anything else fangirly you’d like to do before I forcibly remove you from the area and take you to an undisclosed location where this lot can’t find us?”

 

Rolling her eyes, Eleanor boldly stated, “Yeah, I want a photo. So find someone to operate this and line up, boys.” And she fished about in the bag slung across her chest, producing a camera and waving it in their direction.

 

Accepting it with a resigned sigh, Matt darted off and recruited a crew member to take the picture. “You’re standing between Chris and me, alright?” He instructed Eleanor as they all gathered about her. “Dom will enjoy putting his arm around you too much.”

 

“Spoil sport,” Dom complained, taking a place to Matt’s left.

 

“He is,” Rigby told Dom, peering around Matt. “I won’t tell him if you put your hand on my butt behind his back if you won’t.”

 

“Stop giving him ideas, you wench,” Matt lectured, placing his own hand on Eleanor’s arse just in case before turning his head to pin Dom with his laser stare. “Hands where I can see them, Howard.”

 

Dom folded his arms across his chest obediently, but Matt didn’t miss the cheeky wink he sent Eleanor anyway.

 

“What are you doing lurking over there, The Kirk?” Rigby called to Tom. “I want _all_ the Muse men. Get in the photo.”

 

Tom looked jubilant as he hurried to stand beside Chris.

 

“We all ready?” Matt demanded, getting a bunch of affirmative grunts as he pulled Eleanor tighter into his side and looked to the camera himself. “Try and not fuck up Rigby’s photo by looking like spazzes, won’t you?”

 

“And do try not to let on that you know what I look like naked with one of your lecherous smiles, Bellamy,” Eleanor murmured in his ear. “I’d like to be able to show this picture to my dad.”


	5. Chapter 5

After Eleanor had adamantly insisted on having her photo taken with them all individually and in various other configurations (he’d hovered in an intimidating fashion when it was Dom’s turn, just in case), Matt had finally snapped. Demanding Tom get him a car _now_ , he’d also commandeered his coat, unwilling to take the time to get his own from the dressing room. Dragging Rigby away from the conversation she was having with Dom about the best way to keep coloured jeans from fading in the wash, he marched her to the backstage door and threw it open before she could protest.

Thankfully foregoing a verbal battering for his domineering ways, Eleanor shrugged in acquiescence, just turning before walking through the exit to address Dom and Chris, who’d followed them. “It was five kinds of rockin’ to meet you both,” she gushed. “Thank you for existing and making such wonderful music. I’d love to stay, but _somebody_ needs a shag.” Matt snarled, pushed her outside and slammed the door on the two cackling men behind him.

He perked up a bit once they were ensconced in the rear of the car, as Rigby took the opportunity to practically sit in his lap. But then she said, “If you’re thinking about a back seat blow job, Bellamy, think again. It’s too groupie for words, and I refuse to conform to such a ghastly cliché.” He hadn’t honestly been expecting one, but still…

Eleanor laughed at his disillusioned pout. “I’m up for a really pervy snog and some groping, though,” she offered in compensation. And Matt took the offer gratefully.

***

By the time they made it back to the hotel, Matt was at boiling point. A combination of the natural high from the night’s performance, memories of what they’d done last night, the anticipation that had been building since he’d first seen her that afternoon and her endless teasing had wound him up to such a degree that he was _not_ going to be responsible for his actions when he finally got her alone. And thank Christ he’d thought to get Tom’s coat! These jeans were a tad unforgiving of raging hard ons.

The car came to a stop and he reluctantly disengaged himself from Eleanor to fling open the door. Snatching her hand and hauling her out after him without a word, Matt hustled Rigby across the lobby to reception, where he obtained his room key with growling impatience. Pulling her to the lifts, he hit the call button and turned to look at her with a ferocious scowl.

Eleanor glanced down to where his hand held hers in a fierce grip. “Wha-?” She began.

“Shut up, Rigby,” Matt commanded. He leaned in to whisper in her ear as the elevator arrived and some other guests joined them to take it. “Don’t say another word until we’re in the room. Don’t even look at me. I want the next sound that comes from your mouth to be a scream of pleasure as I take you. Do you hear me, woman?”

Eleanor gulped noticeably, pupils dilating until her irises were nearly eclipsed with darkness, and gave a shaky nod, dropping his hand and walking into the waiting lift without a backward glance. Smothering a triumphant smirk, Matt followed. Oh, he was going to enjoy this!

***

Crashing the door shut behind him, Matt met Eleanor’s gaze as she stood silently a few feet away, face carefully expressionless. Calmly walking to her, he lifted her bag over her head and discarded it. Stepping back slightly, he began unbuttoning his borrowed coat with deliberate slowness as his eyes swept Rigby’s figure from the feet up.

The last button reached, Matt shrugged the thing from his shoulders so it fell to the floor and looked into Eleanor’s face to find her staring at his crotch with a challenging glint in her eye. She raised one eyebrow… and it was _on_!

Their bodies collided with a thump that knocked the breath out of both of them, but they scarcely noticed as they devoured each other’s mouths with a ravenous hunger. The kiss was all thrusting tongues and biting teeth: hot, wet and utterly delicious. Matt’s hands were everywhere at once; sliding up and down Eleanor’s back, cupping her arse, stroking between her legs. Whimpering into his mouth, Rigby moved her own hands down to the fastening on his jeans. She fumbled with his belt briefly before popping open the button and unzipping the fly.

Batting her hands away, Matt quickly toed his shoes and socks off and stripped his trousers down, shucking off his boxers and pulling his t-shirt over his head. Suddenly he was entirely naked while Eleanor remained fully clothed. But that was okay, as he could see the way she drank him in with lust-glazed eyes, _feel_ how much she wanted him, and it only turned him on more. Catching Rigby going to remove her own t-shirt, Matt barked, “No!”

“But Ma-” Eleanor protested.

“I told you to keep quiet,” Matt ordered harshly. Rigby’s eyes flashed dangerously, but she dropped her hands to her sides and remained passive all the same.

Taking her by the upper arms, Matt steered Eleanor until her back came in contact with the hotel room door. Gliding his hands down until they rested on her wrists, he raised both arms above her head and imprisoned them there with a tight grip using one large hand. She was breathing audibly, the warm breeze of it pattering against his face as they stood nose to nose. Matt could tell how much it was costing Rigby to remain silent, how her irritation was battling with her arousal, and he _loved_ it.

Cocking his head to the side, Matt gave Eleanor a beguiling smile, her eyes narrowing warily in response. He was preparing to lay on the charm when she let out a tiny sigh and tilted her head back, exposing her throat in a clear act of capitulation.

Grinning, Matt took advantage of the soft expanse of skin being gifted to him, running his tongue from the hollow where her collarbones met up to the tip of her chin, which he bit lightly. “Hmmm… You’re always so tasty, wench. Hot and bothered suits you well,” he told her in a low voice, free hand running over her breasts fleetingly before disappearing under her t-shirt.

His cock twitched in appreciation as he finally felt her hot, damp flesh against his palm, her muscles twitching as she heaved for breath. But it wasn’t enough. He needed both hands and he needed them now. “If I let your wrists go, do you promise to leave your arms where I put them?” Matt asked, running a compelling hand up and down the curve of Eleanor’s torso. “Don’t speak. Just nod.”

Rigby nodded emphatically, eyes squeezed shut and hair hiding her face. “For such a mouthy cow, you’re shockingly docile when it matters,” Matt said with a dark chuckle, releasing her wrists.

He took a step back to ensure she was doing as she was told, observing her provocatively arched back with pleasure. And her arms remained where he’d left them. Superb. “Good girl,” Matt beamed. “There’s only one thing that could possibly improve this picture. Nudity.”

Eyes shooting open, Eleanor shook her hair back and bucked her hips invitingly, obviously dying to respond with words.

Giving a pleased little snort, Matt took up his fallen jeans and rummaged in the pockets, finding the condom he’d secreted there earlier. Dropping the pants once more, Matt tore the packet open and eased on the contents with a strangled little moan. He then dived forward with disarming swiftness, roughly undoing Rigby’s belt, noting the fact it said ‘Muse’ with a roll of the eyes. He proceeded to her jeans and ripped them down her legs, lifting one foot and then the other, pulling her shoes and socks off with a frustrated growl so he could get the pants all the way off.

Eleanor slumped unsteadily against the door once she’d regained her feet, arms still held above her head, and stared down at Matt. Her face was a study in blankness above him, but she was unable to disguise her rapid breathing and the high colour in her cheeks.

Smiling up at her with practiced sweetness, Matt gently ran his fingertips over the backs of her knees. Eleanor made a stifled meeping noise and shied away. “Aha! You’re ticklish. I’ll be remembering that,” he noted. Slowly standing up, Matt stroked his hands up the inside of Rigby’s legs as he went.

Rubbing lightly between Eleanor’s legs over her knickers as he regained his full height, Matt grinned salaciously into her flustered face and whispered, “All ready for me, I see. Thank fuck, as I am _so_ ready for you.” He ground himself against her and she released a choked breath, shifting to meet him. Matt’s mouth fell open, relishing the relief to his aching cock. They’d pissed about long enough.

Seizing the hem of Rigby’s t-shirt, Matt tugged it abruptly up and over her head, pushing her arms back into place as soon as she was free of it. Licking wetly across her lips, he took the bottom one between his teeth and bit down as his hands groped over her breasts and hastily unclasped her front-opening bra, pushing it aside. Eleanor groaned throatily and lifted one leg to hook it around his hips and pull him tight to her.

“Bloody fucking hell, woman,” Matt exclaimed as his skin came into full contact with Rigby’s, “your skin’s on fire.” He ran his nails roughly down her back and she arched into him with an enticing sigh. “So hot,” he murmured into her neck. “ _Definitely_ worth the trouble.” And he kissed her, tongue probing and inquisitive inside her tempting mouth.

His erection was throbbing with need, and he was _so_ close to being deep inside Eleanor, where he belonged, so he simply slipped a hand between then, pulled her knickers to one side and _thrust_ , one long, agonisingly drawn out slide, extracting a tortured groan from his throat as he bit down on the elegant curve of Rigby’s shoulder.

Given tacit permission to speak by his actions, Eleanor took it, half-yelling, “You complete and utter prick, Bellamy! Tell me to shut up, will you? Ah, fuck…” She trailed off, head turning from side to side in agitation as Matt fixed a hand under the thigh resting at his waist and crushed himself against her, rolling his hips savagely, lips ghosting over the straining lines of her neck.

“Good God,” Eleanor blurted. “I really don’t want to give you… the satisfaction,” she panted, “but I can’t help it…” And she screamed for him. It was a helplessly erotic sound, and Matt reveled in it, but he couldn’t fail to notice that she’d aimed it straight in his ear. The miniscule turning up at the corner of her mouth confirmed it was no accident.

“That’s truly pathetic, darlin’,” Matt laughed, brutally clutching her arse with his free hand. “I _live_ for loud noise. Do it again.”

“No,” Eleanor moaned, arms twitching with the thwarted urge to touch. “It’s a good-” A particularly vicious thrust had her breaking off to gasp, back arching so much the only parts of her touching the door behind were her shoulder blades and lolling head. “Ugh! A good thing you buttered me up with ‘The Groove’. I’d not be putting up with this otherwise.”

“Putting up with this?” Matt mocked, glancing down to enjoy the sight of her breasts squashed against him, savouring the way her hard nipples scraped his chest, all the time ramming himself home over and over again. “The delectably tight, hot wetness presently encasing my cock tells me otherwise, you delightfully dirty bitch.”

“I can’t help that,” Eleanor retorted, eyes closed and sweat beading on her brow. “My body tells my mind to bugger off and makes its own decisions whenever you’re around. We’ll be having stern words later.”

“Ooh, stern words,” Matt breathed in her ear as his lips trapped the lobe and sucked, Eleanor’s hot, gasped breaths on his neck adding a diverting tingle to the pool of sensation he was currently immersed in. Bringing a hand up to clasp her rosy cheek and make her meet his eyes, he smirked into her face, halting his movements momentarily. “I like the sound of that. But then again, I like just about everything about _you_ , Rigby.”

Smiling beatifically, Eleanor replied, “Shut up and fuck me blind, you infuriatingly sexy suck up,” and kissed Matt passionately, tongue seeking out and entwining with his own.

Giggling into the kiss, Matt took his orders seriously. Reasserting his grip on her sweat-sheened thigh, he ran the hand cupping her cheek down her neck, over one breast with a hard flick to the nipple, around her side and on to the small of her back, pushing her firmly to him as he plunged forward. Not letting up once, Matt flexed his hips repeatedly, a steady, satiating rhythm that had them gasping into each other’s mouth.

“Oh, Bellamy,” Eleanor whined, tearing her mouth away to gulp for air. “That’s it. That’s fucking _it_.” She was meeting him thrust for thrust, hips rolling continuously, rivulets of moisture coursing down between her breasts. Her arms were resting loosely above her head now, the strength to hold them up draining as the edge of the precipice crept nearer for both of them.

Matt couldn’t get over how much gratification he drew from her pleasure, her captivating responsiveness. Casual tour shags were never this fucking _good_. She was quite a find, for all her dotty fangirlness. Licking a damp stripe from shoulder to ear, he rested his lips against the shell and spoke with a seductive whisper, “You going to come for me, Foxton? Going to scream for me again?”

“Yes. Yes!” Rigby babbled. “God _yes_. Anything, you horny bastard.” She stilled and caught him in an intense stare, taking a steadying breath to simply state, “ _Now_.”

Not needing to be told twice, Matt’s hand abandoned the small of her back to tangle in her hair, and he pulled it savagely as he penetrated Eleanor with tremendous force, shoving her back into the door and pinning her there. He twisted his hips, just once, and she reached the edge of the cliff they’d been edging towards all night… and fell. With an incredibly satisfying scream.

It was all Matt needed, and he followed her over with a heartfelt groan, burying himself deep and staying there, riding out the insane bliss of his orgasm, as he pulsed inside Rigby and her clenching walls milked him dry.

***

“Holy fuck,” Matt laughed a few minutes later when his ability to form a coherent sentence returned. “We are _so_ good at that.”

Eleanor stirred from where she was resting bonelessly against the door, Matt still pressed against her, and haltingly responded, “Yes. It seems to be our special skill. It’s going straight on my CV. Future employers can’t fail to be impressed.”

“Be sure to send me a copy of that,” Matt replied in all earnestness, kissing her cheek before withdrawing himself with a shudder and moving to ditch the condom. He turned back to find Eleanor had slumped to the floor, but still had her arms above her head. Wandering over, he took her wrists gently and lowered them to rest in her lap. “Wow. Talk about keeping your promise.”

She peered up at him from behind her hair with an embarrassed smile. “Seems you have this strange power over me. I never do what anyone else tells me.”

“I should hope not,” Matt told her firmly. “Anybody but me tries to order you about, give them a slap.” Her bra was hanging loosely off her shoulders, sporting a Muse badge, as she’d said it would, and she was still wearing her knickers. “I like your pants, by the way. Red and white stripes. _Nice_.”

“Ha! Thought you’d enjoy them. But that’s another pair ruined. Bellamy strikes again.” Eleanor sat up straight with an effort and held out her hands to Matt. “Help me up. I need a shower. I’m all sweaty and disgusting. That’s twice you’ve shagged me straight out of the moshpit, you revolting beast.”

Taking her hands and hauling her to her feet and in to a hug, Matt nuzzled his face against her neck and sniffed greedily. “Hmmm… Don’t care what you think. You’re fucking delicious. Terrible shame to wash off this intoxicating smell.” Trailing his fingers down her back, he gave the fabric of her knickers an assessing stroke. “And you can give me these. I’ll keep them as a souvenir for when the bite mark fades.”

Chuckling, Eleanor pushed him away and shook a finger in his face, “The pervy dirt I have on you now, man. Does the word ‘blackmail’ mean anything to you?!”

“Bring it on, witch,” Matt challenged with great bravado. “I can’t see it doing my reputation any harm.”

“Men!” Rigby dismissed. “Sod off and leave me alone for five minutes, Bellamy,” she instructed as she turned away and headed across the room. “It’s bathroom time.”

***

Matt was lying on the bed in a state of relaxation bordering on death when he heard it. Head popping up from the pillow in disbelief, he held his breath to listen. No, he definitely wasn’t hallucinating, but he _was_ bloody surprised. The little madam…

He eased to his feet and stretched before walking to the bathroom door and resting his hand on the knob. She was really getting into it now. He opened the door to be greeted with, “ _But I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo. What the hell am I doin' here? I don't belong here._ ”

Striding forward, he wrenched the shower door open and loudly demanded, “You’re singing Radiohead? _Radiohead_?! In the lead singer of Muse’s shower?”

Spinning around with a yelp, hair plastered to her head and water still cascading over her, Eleanor glared at Matt briefly before breaking into an evil grin. “You’d rather I sing Muse in the lead singer of Radiohead’s shower? Hand me the phone, then. I’ll give Thom a call.”

“Please don’t mention Thom Yorke to me when I’m naked and you’re all wet,” Matt whinged. “It kills my buzz. _Why_ are you singing Radiohead, anyway?”

“Mostly to annoy you,” Rigby admitted with a careless shrug. “Plus it’s one of the only songs of theirs I like. Hmmm…” She stroked her chin thoughtfully. “I could sing Muse in the lead singer of Muse’s shower if it’ll make you feel better.” And she took a step towards him so she was out of the direct spray of the shower and did just that. “ _Faith. It drives me away. But it turns me on. Like a stranger's love. It rockets through the universe. It fuels the lies and feeds the curse. Believes we could be glorious._ ”

“I’d leave that up to the lead singer of Muse if I was you,” Matt cackled, shaking his head. She was such a minx. He adored it. Gaze roving over her glistening flesh, he met her eyes with a predatory smirk and climbed into the spacious shower, pulling the door closed behind him.

Eleanor retreated to the opposite wall and crossed her arms over her chest, lifting her chin defiantly. “I would,” she harrumphed, “if the lead singer of Muse would see fit to play the feckin’ song!”

“Christ alone knows what the setlist would be if we let you come up with it,” Matt retorted. “I am not getting into a b-side argument with you, woman. Now, are you going to behave and share the shower like a lady, or am I going to have to find some way of subduing you? I’ve been involved in an evening of very strenuous activity, and I’m in desperate need of a clean.”

“Wash all you like. You’ll still be a filthy, depraved heathen of a man when you’re finished,” Rigby shot back. But then she gave him a wide smile and beckoned him closer with one finger. “Handy that I like that sort of thing, isn’t it?”

“Oh, it certainly is,” Matt agreed readily, pressing in close and placing a hand on the wall to either side of her head. “Any requests?”

“Yeah,” Rigby answered. “Would it kill you to play ‘Falling Away With You’ at least once?”

“Walked into that one, didn’t I?” Matt sighed. He wrapped one hand around her neck and brushed his nose along hers, enjoying the hot water running down his back. “I meant any _sexual_ requests?’”

“Oh!” Eleanor feigned startled realisation poorly. “Since you’re here, I _do_ have a very fangirl fantasy you may be able to help me with.”

Suddenly wary, Matt tentatively inquired, “And what might that be?”

“Nothing too strenuous,” Rigby assured, prying his other hand away from the wall and holding it between her own. “All you have to do is take these freakishly long, thin, _God-gifted_ , utterly perfect fingers, place them between my legs and fuck me with them until I come all over your hand.” She tilted her head to the side and gave him a half-smile that caused her dimple to show. “Think you’re up to it?”

Choking at her bluntness, Matt’s head swam giddily as he stared at Eleanor incredulously. Where in the hell was this woman from?! No way was she human. Wherever it was, he’d _really_ like to visit. Gathering himself together, he flexed his fingers within her grip and declared, “I’m pretty sure I can handle that.”

Spreading her legs wantonly, Rigby released his hand and placed her arms around his neck. “We’ll she, shall we?” 

*** 

Having bought Eleanor to a trembling orgasm purely with the use of fingers below and mouth above, Matt left her sprawled on the floor of the shower as he gave himself a hasty wash.

Grinning indecently, he pulled her to her feet when he was done, propping her against the wall to push a bar of soap into one slack hand. “I’ll just leave you alone to get properly cleaned up, shall I?” Matt teased, darting out of the shower, grabbing a towel and fleeing back to the bedroom before Rigby had a chance to respond, stopping on the other side of the closed door to catch her muttered curses. She didn’t disappoint, the words ‘fucktard’, ‘cuntybollocks’ and ‘twathead’ making an appearance.

Giggling, Matt dried himself down and tossed the towel aside casually before throwing himself back on the bed again with a groan. He was feeling very frisky again after watching Eleanor’s face and hearing her moans as he penetrated her with his fingers and rubbed her clit until she came with a sob, but he could wait. This night was turning out spectacularly well, even better than the night before, and he wanted to draw it out as long as he could, the possibility of a repeat performance remote. But he was so sodding _tired_. Maybe if he just had a little catnap while Rigby was finishing up in the shower…

*** 

Matt was pulled back into wakefulness by the harsh sting of _something_ lashing across his stomach. Flinching in shock, his eyes flew open and he blinked in disorientation for a few moments before the room came back into focus and the wild haired, fetchingly flushed form of Eleanor Foxton appeared over him. “What the fuck was that?” Matt petulantly asked.

Rigby smiled sweetly and drew her arm forward from where it had been concealed behind her back, his black and white stripey belt swinging hypnotically from her hand. “That was me whacking you one with your own belt. You have no idea how many Muser girls I know who would _die_ to do that. Preferably on the arse,” she informed him without a hint of shame.

“Fucking fangirls,” Matt muttered under his breath, before glowering belligerently up at her. “Yes, but _why_?!”

“Generally ‘cos you’re asking for it, specifically this time ‘cos you were asleep when I am so not done with you yet and the fact that you’re such an insufferably smug git,” Eleanor stated, flinging the belt across the room and clambering on to the bed beside him with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “You can pout a bit longer if you like. It’s really fucking _hot_."


	6. Chapter 6

Sulking for a few minutes for Eleanor’s edification while wincing theatrically at the red welt on his stomach, Matt eventually got bored, sitting up to lower the lights and pull her smirking, nicely naked figure down to lie beside him on the bed. She settled close with a sigh, and they lay in companionable silence for a long moment.

 

“Why’d you really disappear without saying goodbye this morning?” Matt piped up eventually, curious, running a hand through Rigby’s damp, disheveled hair as her head rested against his chest, the fingers of his other enmeshed with hers as she idly swung their tightly clasped hands back and forth.

 

“Told you in the letter, didn’t I?” Eleanor responded, lips brushing against him. “Had a plane to catch. I’m not missing a flight I paid for in advance. I’ve already flittered my meagre funds away on two hotels I haven’t even slept in because of your biteable arse.”

 

“It is very biteable, isn’t it?” Matt giggled as her breath tickled pleasantly over sensitised skin. “I won’t protest too much if you do the other buttock and leave me a matching set of teeth marks.” He swept a hand down her warm back and caressed backwards from one hip. “I never told you what a fine, round and strokably smooth backside _you_ have, woman. I wouldn’t mind letting my mouth loose on such a luscious canvas myself.”

 

“Hmmm… D’you hear me objecting?” Eleanor murmured, turning her head slightly to lick his nipple. “Bruises. Bites. It’s all the same to me. It’s pretty obvious that I’ll let you do anything you want to me, Bellamy. Just don’t act all outraged when I ask you to autograph my arse afterwards.”

 

Matt’s cackle of appreciation had Rigby’s head jostling on his vibrating chest. “Ooh, sorry love,” he soothed as she made a noise of protest, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “You’re too amusing for your own good sometimes. Nice attempt to divert my attention, by the way. But the flight can’t have been the only reason. Why do a runner?”

 

“Hmmphh,” Eleanor snorted, wriggling up Matt’s body until her head rested next to his on the pillow. “Think you’re so feckin’ wise, don’t you?” She bought their still entwined hands to rest on his stomach and let out an aggrieved sigh. “Alright, I confess. I woke up and freaked out. Happy?”

 

“I can recall a few occasions where I may have topped this level of contentment while not on stage, but not many,” Matt admitted, again surprised at how easily the truth escaped him in her company. Even more so by the fact it _was_ the truth. “But do feel free to elaborate.”

 

Rigby blinked, the face so close to his own awash with uncertainty, opening and closing her mouth a few times before she found her voice. “Um, what was I…? Oh, yeah. This morning’s freak out. Okay. I woke up and at first I didn’t know where I was. I’d not really had time to look at my hotel room when I checked in, but it sure as hell didn’t look like _that_. And then I glanced to the side and saw you and almost hyperventilated as everything came flooding back. Seriously, I was so weirded out, I just sat and stared at you for about ten minutes while the phrase ‘You’re in the same bed as the man who wrote ‘Citizen Erased’ and he just fucked you so well you actually blacked out’ went round and round inside my brain.”

 

“Well…” Matt began. “Both those things are true, but I fail to see what the problem is.”

 

“The problem?!” Eleanor blurted incredulously. “The problem is… I can’t even really begin to explain what the problem is! You can’t understand what this is like for me, because you’re _you_. It’s like… It’s bloody well like a devout Muslim having a torrid affair with Mohammed! I’m not religious, so music, _Muse_ , is like my faith, a hugely significant part of my existence. And here I am, in the sack with the fucking prophet! Mind fuckage taken to a whole new level.”

 

It was Matt’s turn to blink. He was genuinely baffled at her extreme response to this whole thing. Obviously he knew how attached some people became to their music, but, even though he was the main creative force behind it, he was still just a man. He had a more interesting job than the average, yes, and was monumentally privileged that his living was also his passion, but on no level was he anywhere near as special as she seemed to think he was.

 

Rigby was a whole new experience for Matt, as the women he slept with were generally more interested in the fact he was a rock star than the actual music he made. Yeah, he did go round spouting off about the unattractiveness of birds wanting to shag him purely for his status, but he said a _lot_ of things, and, truthfully, if he was being offered sex, he wasn’t always that fussed on the person offering’s motivation. Eleanor, though… To her the music was _everything_ , and she didn’t want anything from him (apart from his body, clearly) because, as far as she was concerned, she’d already gotten the best thing of all when he’d unknowingly given her Muse. So that left her wanting him for _himself_ , and that felt fucking _fantastic_.

 

Seeing the way she was gnawing on her bottom lip in worry, Matt attempted to lighten the atmosphere by saying, “So you’re staring at me and breathing hard. I’m totally imagining your breasts jiggling as your chest heaves. And it’s _scrumptious_.”

 

“Ugh!” Rigby said with an eye roll. “Your total horny perviness is really helping temper my urge to mindless adulation, Bellamy.” She insinuated her unoccupied arm under his neck and began rubbing his upper arm, soft fingertips on the down stroke, harsh fingernails on the up. Matt let out a lusty little hum and reflexively cupped one breast with a relaxed palm. Eleanor shifted closer still, and he felt his cock stir at the tempting press of flesh on flesh. “Where was I?” She queried breathily.

 

“All over me?” Matt questioned hopefully.

 

“Ha! Maybe later,” she laughed. “Ah, that’s right. You’re lying there being all innocent and gorgeous, with no chance to ruin the illusion by talking, and I’m panicking. Firstly at who you are, secondly at what we’d done and the fact that I wanted to do it again… right fucking _now_ , and finally at the idea of how you might treat me if you woke up to find me hanging around like a delusional groupie. It was too much. I couldn’t handle the possible rejection, the thought that you hurting me could taint my love for Muse. So I decided not to give you the chance; got dressed, wrote the note, gave you a parting grope and had the all new snotty bitch on reception call me a taxi. Plus I really did have a flight to catch.”

 

Babbling cascade of speech abruptly over, Eleanor gazed helplessly at Matt, fingers tightening convulsively against his own. “Why did you think I’d reject you when I’d asked you to stay the night before, Eleanor?” He finally inquired, mild hurt creeping into his tone. “I’ll admit now I don’t normally let my bed mates stay the night, but you are _anything_ but normal. I thought it was clear that I’d have been delighted to wake up and find you there,” he continued with a teasing pinch of pink nipple on the word ‘delighted’.

 

A tiny whine escaped Rigby’s throat, foot lifting to run up and down his calf. “Didn’t want to take the risk,” she told him honestly. “I couldn’t understand why someone like you would want someone like me. And I still don’t. Figured I’d only got lucky having been in the right place at the right time. You coming back for more astounded me. With your average bloke I’m supremely confident in my all round wonderfulness. But _you_ … You are so out of my league it’s against the laws of nature for me to be here right now.”

 

“Nonsense,” Matt barked, and Eleanor’s eyes widened. “You’re _lovely_. As if you weren’t hot enough without saying anything, all you have to do is open your mouth and your sex appeal skyrockets. I’ve rarely met anyone so fiendishly clever and witty. D’you think Dom was only flirting with you to piss me off?” At her nod, he frowned and kissed her, swift but deep. “Christ no, wench. He fancied the arse off you. I know Dom. I can tell. And who am I that I’m so great? I know a certain type of woman will inexplicably fall at my feet with the raise of one eyebrow, and yeah, I _do_ play up to it, but I’ve never really known _why_ , beyond the rock star with bulging wallet thing.”

 

Scoffing loudly, Eleanor extricated herself from his embrace and stared down at him contemplatively. Matt was bewildered at this sudden turn of events.

 

“What are you-?”

 

“Do shut up, Bellamy,” she ordered, straddling his waist and taking his face between her hands, leaning over him until her chestnut hair shrouded his view and all he could see was her sparkling eyes. “You, my wriggly little piano-thrashing guitar god, are the most breathtakingly beautiful man it has ever been my good fortune to gaze upon, let alone screw.”

 

“Beautiful?!” Matt exclaimed dismissively. “What rubbish. There’s no need to flatter me. I’m already on my back and begging for it.”

 

“It’s not flattery, fool. It’s the truth,” Eleanor told him, tone brooking no argument. “Totally disregarding your awe inspiring talent and brilliantly deranged mind, and even if you remained a Devon-bound painter and decorator, I would still stop in the street to stare at this _exquisite_ face. These cheekbones.” She kissed the hollow of one, then the other. “This chin.” She flicked her tongue out to dip into the cleft. “These lips.” She licked slowly from one side to the other. “This charmingly shaped nose.” She nuzzled it delicately with her own. “And these eyes. Good lord, these eyes!” Her fingertips ghosted across his face, and the eyes in question dropped closed as she traced lightly down his brows and over his eyelids. “No one,” she said with conviction, as Matt felt her lips hovering over his own, “has ever appealed to me more than you, my beautiful Bellamy.” And she full stopped this statement with a kiss. Just one.

 

Raising his head to chase her retreating mouth, Matt’s eyes popped open and he stared into Rigby’s, lost for words. Gulping a few times, sensing an embarrassed blush rising to his cheeks and a rush of blood heading straight to his already roused groin, he finally managed to say, “I-” before he was silenced by a finger pressed to his lips.

 

“I haven’t finished,” Eleanor hushed him. “I’ve yet to mention this neck. Oh, _fuck me_ , I can’t adequately describe what this neck does to me. Surely the result of some genetic experiment by aliens to see if such an innocuous body part is capable of bringing a human female to orgasm on sight alone,” she murmured feverishly, tilting his head back and running her fingertips up and down his throat reverently.

 

Matt groaned, eyes fluttering closed, soaking up Rigby’s attentions like an affection-starved sponge. “Shit, Eleanor,” he breathed. “If you thought my ego was big before, it’s going to be fucking out of control if you keep this up.”

 

“I’m sure Dom, Tom and Chris are more than up to the task of shooting you down if you get too pleased with yourself,” she laughed, placing feather light kisses along Matt’s jaw line, rubbing behind his ears and up into his hair.

 

“No one keeps me in line like you, my bossy madam,” Matt smiled, luxuriating in her touch.

 

“You honour me, sir,” Eleanor mocked. “But if you think giving you shit is taking any effort on my part, you could not be more wrong. I don’t even have to try. Speaking of trying,” she continued, tugging sharply on his hair. Matt opened his eyes to see her scowling at him. “I try and I try and I _try_ , but I am totally incapable of getting my hair this silky and lustrous. You’re a boy. You don’t need shiny hair. So how do you do it?”

 

“I don’t ‘do’ anything,” Matt defended, lifting his hands from where they’d been resting loosely on the bed to embrace Rigby’s waist. “It’s just like this naturally.”

 

“That just makes it worse!” Eleanor complained.

 

“Woman, you are _not_ jealous of my hair, ‘cos that would be batty, even by your standards,” Matt scolded, gliding a hand up to mess in her damp tresses. “Besides, you have _deadly_ hair. It reflects the madness within and at times seems to act independently of your body.”

 

She hastily smothered the tiny grin this comment provoked and warned, “You won’t be so amused when you see what it looks like when left to dry by itself. The word ‘petrified’ springs to mind.”

 

“There’s nothing like a little fear to keep things interesting,” Matt casually remarked before his mouth formed a crooked, crafty smirk. “So… Anything else about me you’d like to compliment?”

 

“Admiration whore,” Rigby accused. And he was, but only for her. Praise usually made him feel uncomfortable.

 

“But,” she qualified, regaining his full attention, “there is one other thing I could mention while I’m here, having covered the awesomeness of your arse last night.”

 

“Well, do feel free,” Matt offered magnanimously, massaging the back of her neck. “You’ve a captive audience.”

 

Eleanor leaned into his hand with a contented purr, smiling dreamily.

 

“ _You’re so fucking special. I wish I was special_.” It came to Matt _so_ quietly, and he hadn’t even seen her lips move. He wasn’t entirely sure he hadn’t imagined it. Perhaps he had. Bloody Radiohead! He didn’t think he’d mention it either way.

 

Glancing into Rigby’s face once more, he found her gazing at him very intently, with an expression he couldn’t fathom at all. “What?” Matt questioned.

 

“Nothing for you to worry yourself over, big boy,” Rigby giggled wickedly, easing herself backwards until his expectant cock brushed against her. They let out a simultaneous gasp, and Eleanor leaned forward and splayed her hands over his chest, adopting a serious air. “I wanted to talk about your luminous white skin and how the way it stretches so divinely over your gracefully-shaped bones makes me go weak at the knees,” she rasped seductively, circling a nipple with the tip of one finger. “Am I allowed to talk about that?”

 

“Quite frankly, Foxton,“ Matt murmured, spellbound, “you can talk about, and _do_ , anything you fucking well want. I can’t get enough.” Her smug grin at this admission was priceless. He wished he had a camera. “Hmmm… As long as this is leading to sex in the next, say, twenty minutes?!”

 

“It’s a pretty sure bet,” Rigby gleefully confirmed. “However,” she continued, stopping Matt in his tracks as he was bucking his hips upwards and raising a hand to her breast, “you’re not getting so much as a wank until you tell me how you know my last name. Did you use H.A.A.R.P. on me, Bellamy?”

 

“And why would the US government be keeping tabs on you?” Matt inquired, unable to resist. “Got a high opinion of our own importance, don’t we?”

 

Eleanor quirked one eyebrow and deliberately removed her hands from his chest, sitting up on to her knees so their bodies were no longer touching. “What was that, Mr. Bellamy? Didn’t quite catch it,” she said blithely.

 

Instantly feeling the loss of her sweet, warm weight, Matt waved his hands in supplication and backtracked shamelessly. “H.A.A.R.P. was fortunately unnecessary, master. I made the mistake of telling Tom about his Facebook group and while he was skiting like a spoilt child and making us watch Dom spotted the name Eleanor and pointed it out to me. I’d told him about you at breakfast.”

 

Immediately he was finished with this explanation, Rigby took his hands in hers and lowered herself slowly until she was resting astride his hips. She twisted her own, grinding down against him, and Matt’s breath hitched in his throat, cock throbbing in anticipation. “Ahh… Pointy bastard,” Eleanor murmured under her breath, sliding her upper body forward and pushing Matt’s hands to rest either side of his head on the pillow, pinning them in place. She stared into his eyes and asked, “You told Dom about me?”

 

“Well, _obviously_ ,” Matt replied, perplexed. “He knew who you were, didn’t he?”

 

“No, no,” Rigby shook her head and her hair swept distractingly across his face. “You told Dom about me _at breakfast_?” Matt nodded. “And when did you discover I was here?”

 

“When I saw you in the queue as we drove past this afternoon,” he informed her.

 

“So that _was_ you!” Eleanor exclaimed. “Staring at me when I can’t see you, you slimy lurker. Anyway, was that when you decided to play ‘The Groove’?”

 

“No. Don’t be stupid. We had to practice it, didn’t we? I’d asked the guys that morning and we played it at soundcheck.”

 

Disregarding his condescending tone, Rigby gripped his hands tighter and excitedly gabbled, “Let me get this straight. You told Dom about me at breakfast-”

 

“I actually sort of showed him your note,” Matt accidentally confessed.

 

“Why am I not surprised?” Eleanor sighed. “Right, matter at hand. Dom knows about me, and I dread to think in how much detail, and then you ask if you can play ‘The Groove’, _before you even know I’m here_. Tom shows you his Facebook group, _after you tell him what I told you-_ ”

 

“This is all very interesting, Foxton,” Matt interrupted, “but where’s it leading?”

 

“I’m getting there!” She snapped. “Where did you go after soundcheck?”

 

“Shopping,” Matt admitted reluctantly.

 

“Aha! Did you buy those jeans?” Eleanor demanded. “They looked new before you introduced them to the floor.”

 

“So what if I did?” Matt bristled.

 

“You go out and buy new jeans, _after I tell you to wear tighter pants_ , and wear them, _knowing I’ll be there to see them_ ,” she stuttered with wide eyes.

 

“Seriously, Eleanor,” Matt bitched, shifting impatiently against her, “what is the point of all this?”

 

“The point, you magnificent creature,” Rigby declared with a fierce glint in her eye, “is that I made an impression on you. _Matt Bellamy_. So much so that you went out of your way to do things because _I_ asked you to. _Me_. A fleeting fangirl fuck. That is just so epic, I can’t even… I don’t… I… _Fuck_!” She dropped her head until her lips were separated from his by the merest sliver of air, and whispered huskily, “How about I just ride you like a sodding pogo stick until we both come so hard we actually die for a couple of seconds? It’s the only way I can think of to show the level of my appreciation.”

 

“Yes, please,” Matt agreed with a gulp. “Fucking do it, you crazy bitch.”

 

“Okay!” Eleanor sniggered, closing the distance between their mouths and kissing him lavishly.

 

“’Bout freakin’ time,” Matt muttered as Rigby broke off to lick and nibble his neck. “Can I have my hands back, please?” He whined, pushing up against her imprisoning clutch. “I want to grope you like the pervert I am.”

 

“No,” she refused, hot, moist lips caressing down his chest. “I’m the boss this time. Play along like a good boy.”

 

Matt considered refusing, but then she sucked his nipple into her mouth and he thought better of it, lying back passively to enjoy the show.

 

Sensing the way his body went slack under her, Eleanor raised her head briefly to smile winningly at him and then bent her head to glide her tongue down the centre of his abdomen. She dipped into his belly button and Matt couldn’t hold back his squirmy giggle, feeling her resulting grin against the twitching muscles of his stomach. “Someone else is ticklish too,” she noted, proceeding to bite the thin skin covering his hipbone. Placing a line of nipping kisses across his groin to the other hip, he heard her muttering, “Pointy, pointy. God, the _pointyness_ ,” deliriously.

 

This woman drove him absolutely barmy. He groaned and writhed, dizzy with pleasure. Everything she said, everything she did. Flexing his trapped fingers, resisting the overpowering urge to tear his hands away and just _take_ , Matt grunted as Rigby nosed against his painfully hard erection, “No, wench. Just get on my fucking cock and get on it _now_.”

 

“So much for being the boss,” Eleanor joked, sitting up and gazing down at him with dark, wanting eyes. “What a happy coincidence that I’m so very fond of being impaled by the long, hard length of you.” She looked around vaguely. “Condom?”

 

Shaking his head in disbelief at the incendiary words that fell so easily from that paradise of a mouth, Matt responded, “Bag by the foot of the bed. And _hurry_.”

 

Releasing his hands, Rigby scrambled round and hung over the edge of the mattress, affording Matt a fine view of her round arse. He was _so_ going to bite it later. It was only fair. He heard rummaging noises and a few muffled curses and then she was back, shuffling up his legs while she ripped the silvery packet open with her teeth. Condom in hand, she eased it on with a look of intense concentration, the tip of her tongue poking out of her sweet, pouty lips. Matt moaned loud and long at the feel of her fingertips teasing his shaft, and as soon as they reached the base he grabbed her hands and pulled her forward with a growl. “I want inside you, witch. Fucking take me deep.”

 

“I’ll get right on that,” Eleanor intoned with a mischievous grin, shaking off his grip to settle one hand lightly around his neck while the other took a firm grasp of his cock. And she guided herself down with a sigh.

 

Bucking his hips instinctively, Matt whimpered low in his throat at the mind-numbing heat and tightness, hands wandering indecisively until he finally brought them to rest on her thighs, stroking and scratching.

 

Rigby had paused once he was fully sheathed inside her, mouth open, chest heaving, staring down at him with a face lust-drenched and needing. Matt met her eyes and commanded, “ _Move_.”

 

So she did, lifting her hips to drive them back down with intent, burying Matt inside her further than ever before. “Oh. My. _God_ ,” she gasped, hand tightening around his neck reflexively.

 

Head swimming as his air supply was temporarily curtailed, the answering surge in his crotch surprising him, Matt eased her hand away and half-choked, “Breathing helps me fuck, Rigby.”

 

“ _I_ help you fuck, Matt,” Eleanor corrected, switching off his hold until she was grasping his wrist as she repeated the movement of her hips over him again and again. She raised his hand to her mouth and considered him with half-lidded eyes. “Want your fingers inside me as well,” she stated plainly, and took two of his slender digits between her lips and _sucked_.

 

“Christ,” Matt groaned, eyes flitting between the sight of his cock disappearing inside her and his fingers being devoured, unable to decide which was arousing him more. He lifted his knees and planted his feet firmly on the bed so Eleanor’s back was supported, and he slipped the smallest fraction deeper at the new angle, his eyes rolling back in his head in ecstasy. Rigby moaned around his fingers, suckling more keenly, swirling her tongue around and around as she ground down against him over and over.

 

“Fuck, fuck, fucking fuck,” Matt rambled, free hand running across breasts, pinching nipples, darting down to rub at the point where their bodies joined, never staying anywhere for long as his body succumbed to the saturating intensity of their coupling.

 

They’d been caught in this dance for what seemed like hours, but just as easily could have been minutes, and he would be content to remain here forever if he wasn’t drunk with the thought of coming, enraptured by the sight of Eleanor towering over him, all pink flesh and wild hair, primal and sensual, the centre of his universe. He caught her gaze as her eyes drifted open, glittering in the gloom. “That’s it, woman. Fucking take it. Ride it. Ride my fucking cock.” Her nostrils flared in response, a whine escaping as she tilted her head back and took his fingers deeper inside her mouth, increasing the speed of her hips at the same time. It was all so deliciously debauched, Matt couldn’t hold back much longer. He knew his orgasm would be _immense_ , and he wanted it bad, but he wanted Rigby’s too. Could almost taste it.

 

“Close?” Matt asked harshly, thrusting up hard as Eleanor pounded down. She bit down on his fingers involuntarily at the sensations generated by this new amount of force, nodding her head frantically, pace accelerating even further. He flinched at the pain running down his arm from her teeth, but relished it too.

 

Rigby was beginning to tense up, her sucking of his fingers slowing and then stopping altogether as she let them slip from her mouth, body gradually being overcome. She leaned forward as Matt used both hands to grip her hips tightly, cupping his face in her palms once more. “I want,” she panted, “I want… I want you to scream like you do during ‘Showbiz’. Scream for me, Bellamy.”

 

At this, she lifted up until only the head of his cock remained inside her and simply let herself fall, collapsing down on him with bruising swiftness, crying out at the depth of penetration. And Matt was flying, falling, burning, hurtling through time and space as his back arched indecently, pressing his groin up and just letting go, letting the cosmos take him. Losing control had never felt so good. And he did scream. A high, loud, prolonged scream of tortured fulfillment. Eleanor joined him, he could hear her sobbing and yelling through the sparks and the darkness, feel her tears dripping onto his face, taste them on his lips. Then he died. Just for a second.

 

***

 

Matt came back from the brink with a gasp, heart hammering in his chest at what he’d just experienced, elated beyond belief. He stared down at the exhausted figure huddled on his chest in total bemusement for a long moment. What was this bizarre hold she had over him? Understanding was elusive, and he _loved_ it.

 

He was just about to check she wasn’t actually dead, slightly concerned by the way she didn’t seem to be _breathing_ , when he was startled by the subdued ringing of the hotel phone on the bedside table. What the…? It was insanely late. Who’d call…? Silly question. He knew who it was already. Eleanor hadn’t even twitched, so Matt leaned carefully to the side and picked up the receiver, bringing it to his ear and hissing, “Dominic Howard, you will fuck off right fucking now if you know what’s good for you.”

 

Smug laughter assaulted him. “Sounding a tad out of breath there, Bells. A little excited,” Dom taunted. “What can you be doing?”

 

“You’re lucky I’m not doing it anymore, or you’d be in a lot more trouble, you drunken wanker,” Matt spat. “Why are you annoying me?”

 

Rigby’s head popped up abruptly and she looked at him groggily. “Who the fuck is that?” She inquired in a cracked voice.

 

“Is that Eleanor?” Dom slurred in Matt’s ear. “She’s the reason I was calling. Why would I want to talk to you?! Put her on!”

 

“It’s that dingus Dom,” Matt explained disgustedly to Eleanor. “He wants to talk to you. I was just telling him to fuck off and die.”

 

“Give it here,” Rigby ordered, sitting up with a groan and holding a hand out for the receiver.

 

He gave it to her grudgingly and took the opportunity to remove the condom, throwing it over the side of the bed. He knew that was gross, but no way was he moving.

 

“Mr. Howard,” she said huskily after clearing her throat, “what can I do for you?”

 

Dom’s reply was only a mumble to Matt. He suspected he was speaking quietly on purpose.

 

Rigby snorted at what she heard, eyes wide. “That’s very kind of you, Dominic, but I’ll have to pass.”

 

More burbling. Matt’s eyes narrowed.

 

“I’m quite sure,” Eleanor said, glancing at Matt. “I’m, um, very pleased with my current arrangements. I do appreciate the offer, though.”

 

She listened to his response with a smile. “I’ll keep that in mind, Dominic. Goodnight.”

 

Stretching to replace the device at the bedside, Rigby turned back to Matt, who still hadn’t managed to get upright, with an innocent air. “So…”

 

“What did he just ask you?” Matt demanded with an intimidating glare.

 

“Oh, he was just offering to ‘entertain’ me if I was ‘bored’ where I was,” Eleanor replied easily. “Generous of him, don’t you think?”

 

“He what?!” Matt exploded, gesticulating with abandon in his righteous indignation. “The freakin’ nerve! Oh, he is in for a _world_ of hurt tomorrow. I’m going to take that lightsaber and… Wait a minute. You’re _not_ bored, are you?”

 

Cackling, she shook her head and captured his flailing hands. “Very, _very_ far from it, Bellamy,” Rigby soothed, pulling Matt on to his side and turning to lie down beside him, her back flush with his front, the touch of her skin like a full-body caress.

 

Mollified (but a tiny part of his brain put aside for scheming up revenge on dickwad Dom), Matt wrapped his arms possessively around her warm, soft form and nuzzled his face into her personality-mirroring hair, wallowing in her scent. It was like a homing beacon to him, but he was past fretting about what that might mean. “Are you going to be here when I wake up, Eleanor December Foxton?”

 

“That depends, Matthew James Bellamy,” Rigby returned gravely. “What will you do if you wake up and I am?”

 

“Try and shag you again,” Matt declared, anywhere she was a place of total honesty.

 

“How can I possibly walk away from such an enticing prospect?” Eleanor pondered.

 

“You can’t resist,” Matt murmured, stroking her hip.

 

“You’re right,” she admitted with a sigh. “I really can’t. Even if I wanted to. I’ll be here.”

 

“Excellent,” he giggled in satisfaction.

 

Silence stole over the room as sleep approached, and Matt stirred himself to ease the duvet out to cover them and rolled over to switch off the light before it finally took him. Settling back against Rigby with a hum of soul-deep contentment, he all of a sudden recalled her tears on his face as he came. Concerned, he spoke up. “You feeling alright, Eleanor?”

 

She felt for his hand in the darkness, tangling his fingers with her own when she found it. “I’m feeling glorious, Matt,” she assured, and he could picture her lone dimple appearing hearing the grin in her voice. “Fucking _glorious_.”


End file.
